


Lovely

by alwaysred



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Daddy Kink, Feminization, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Older Man/Younger Man, Peter wears lip gloss, Premature Ejaculation, Rutting, Slow Burn, Tony is a grown man, Tony is lw a sugar daddy, Tony is peter's mom's boyfriend, Underage Drinking, Voyeurism, because of course, but not really, everybody thinks Peter is hot except for Peter, im sorry, intellect kink, peter is 16, peter's mom is alive but his dad is not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-25 08:24:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15636927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysred/pseuds/alwaysred
Summary: When his mother had brought her new boyfriend into their dingy Queens apartment, he’d reminded Peter of the pretty rings and necklaces they kept in the glass cases at the antique store a few blocks over. He stood out, looking shiny and expensive amongst the junk surrounding him. He looked shiny and expensive, but he did not look new.-Peter Parker's mother has a new boyfriend who looks dashing in a turtleneck, is the CEO of a successful business, and is more than generous with his wealth. Within months of dating Peter's mother, he asks the two of them to move in. Peter isn't used to dealing with changes, but he's about to be faced with a lot of them.





	1. let go of yesterday

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be a smutty one shot but now I've decided to attempt to write a kind of long, kind of slow burn plot-filled story. I just really love this trope and I wanted to write one with my own twist.  
> Peter isn't a science nerd in this fic, but rather, an arts and literature nerd who blushes a lot and wears lots of oversized sweaters and listens to eighties alternative music and probably wears round glasses. Visually inspired by his character in "How I Live Now".  
> Peter's father is dead but his mother, Mary Parker, is still alive.  
> Peter is shy and small and a major twink with a pretty face and a prettier mind.  
> Tony Stark lives in a mansion in a fancy suburb and is not a scientist, but is still a wealthy genius. Inspired partially by his character in "Wonder Boys". 
> 
> Inspired by this Tumblr post: https://downeyfordick.tumblr.com/post/176825158212/starkships-were-meant-to-fly-this-was-requested  
> Follow me on Tumblr if ya want @downeyfordick

When he’d first shown up in their dingy Queens apartment, he’d reminded Peter of the pretty rings and necklaces they kept in the glass cases at the antique store a few blocks over. Those rings had once belonged to people who could afford beautiful accessories, and the extent of their use was prevalent in their shine, or lack thereof. Most of them had lost their glimmer, but gained charm via their antiquity. Peter was always very drawn to those necklaces and rings because each told a unique story, and he often liked to ponder the reason they’d been abandoned and sent here, to the secondhand store, to be resold. They stood out amongst the other objects in the store, ranging from old, broken nightstands to record players that no longer worked, to stained wedding dresses that were probably never of much value to begin with. 

Peter liked old things, he thought they had a lot more to say, and he liked to look at the objects he could possess, knowing they’d been around and seen a whole lot more than he had. 

His father had given him the appreciation for objects that had been owned before, and put the idea into his young mind that just because something was no longer “new” did not mean it had lost its initial value, but rather, it had surpassed it, and things that could withhold years of life were far more impressive than things that could only live up to a shelf-life determined by a trend.

Sometimes Peter wondered if he was taught this only because his parents had never had very much money, and thus “new” was not a frequent occurrence in their household. Then Peter would come across one of his father’s old sweaters and find himself basking in it for days, thinking that maybe if he wore it for long enough, he’d start to inherit the life that had once inhabited it, and get to know his father more than he’d ever gotten the chance to. Moments like this made him disregard any doubts he might’ve had about his father’s teachings, because no  _ new _ sweater could make Peter feel as though he was hugging his father one more time. 

When his mother had brought her new boyfriend into their dingy Queens apartment, he’d reminded Peter of the pretty rings and necklaces they kept in the glass cases at the antique store a few blocks over. He stood out, looking shiny and expensive amongst the junk surrounding him. He looked shiny and expensive, but he did not look  _ new _ . 

He stood behind a glass case, as the necklaces and rings did, that Peter desperately wanted to crack open. He wanted to know how he’d ended up here, in the antique shop, and how he’d lost some of his shine.

“This is my son, Peter.” Mary had gestured to him, hand a bit shaky. She was evidently worried about what Peter would think of him. She hadn’t brought home many other men since Richard’s death. 

The man had offered his hand to shake to the boy, who reluctantly accepted.

“You’ve got a good grip, kid. I’m Tony,” he flashed a bright smile at Peter. This man looked like someone who belonged on a television screen, not in an apartment that was barely holding itself together. 

“Nice to meet you, sir.”

“Oh, no need for that, ‘Tony’ is perfectly fine.”

Peter nodded. He didn’t feel comfortable using his first name. ‘Tony’ didn’t have the face of someone a sixteen year old boy called by their first name. He looked like someone highly respected. It made Peter’s skin itch.

Tony had looked Peter up and down in the silent tension and attempted to offer a truce to the evidently uncomfortable teenager.

“I like the sweater you’re wearing.”

The sweater was far too big for Peter’s narrow frame and the sleeves bunched up around his wrists when he didn’t let them fall over his palms. It was pale yellow with a single blue stripe around the chest, and it smelled like freshly brewed coffee and old, paperback books. On colder days, Peter lived in this particular sweater. 

He didn’t look up from his feet when he said, “it was my dad’s.”

Mary’s face had dropped a bit then, obviously questioning if this introduction was a mistake, but Tony’s face merely softened. 

“Well, it’s lovely.”

Peter felt his face get hot and he avoided eye contact to the best of his abilities.

_ Lovely. _

What a word to use towards a boy so unknowingly deserving of it. 

  
  
  


Peter had only met Tony a few times when the news had been dropped.

He was setting the table while Mary cooked, waiting on Tony’s arrival, expecting the man to knock at any minute.

“Peter?”

“Yeah, Mom?”

“Come in here, please.”

Peter set the salt and pepper shakers down in the center of the table before padding barefoot into the kitchen. Mary looked up at him before tossing her oven mitt onto the counter and sighing. 

“I need to talk to you about something.” 

Peter pulled the sleeves of his sweater up over his palms; it was a nervous tick.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“You know Tony and I have been seeing each other for a while now,” she began. Peter nodded. 

“And you know how much he’s been helping us out,” she gives him a look, “financially.”

Peter nodded again. He understood that Mary was not with Tony because he was wealthy, but that his generosity in terms of rent and school supplies, or whatever else that may have been needed, had played more than a small role in the quick paced advancement of their short relationship.  

“I know it sounds a little rushed, but I need you to just hear me out on this one. And we don’t have to finalize everything now, we can talk this out during dinner, and even after Tony leaves, I want you to have a say in this, but-”

“Mom,” Peter cut off her rambling, “what is it?”

“Tony has asked me-  _ us _ , to move in with him.”

“He’s- what? But what about school, and Ned, and the antique store, and Delmar’s Deli? What about,” Peter became all too aware of every single one of his senses; the pungent smell of the pot roast, the flickering of the slowly disappearing sunlight cast on the floor through the kitchen window, the sound of the cartoon cat clock ticking on the wall, the scratchy seam of Dad’s sweater on the back of his neck- 

“What about Dad?” Peter finished. 

Mary’s shoulders fell, “oh, Pete…”

She pulled him into a hug and ran her hand lovingly up and down his back.

“Dad is not in this apartment, Peter,” she pulled away, keeping her hands on his small shoulders, “and he’s not in this sweater,” she brushed her hand along the sleeve of his old burgundy sweater, “he’s here,” she whispered, placing her hand on Peter’s heart.

Peter noticed her eyes getting wet and felt his own doing the same before he had time to stop them. Tears began rolling down his cheeks.

“I don’t want to leave everything behind.”

Mary pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, “if we have each other then we’re home, aren’t we?”

“Why do you want us to move in with him? What happens when you break up?”

“Peter. Don’t worry about that right now, okay? Tony is a very nice man and he’s offered me a job at his company that could  _ change our lives _ . We would never have to worry about rent, or affording your books for school. Peter, we might even be able to afford for you to go to  _ college  _ depending on where I am with the company in a few years. But the job means moving upstate-”

“And moving upstate means moving in with Mr. Stark.”

Mary nodded, brushing a curl back from his forehead.

A knock at the door pulled them out of their moment. Peter took a deep breath in and wiped away at his eyes with the back of his hand.

Mary answered the door, plastering a smile on her face. Tony pulled her into a hug before striding over to Peter and raising his hand for a high five. Peter felt uncomfortable about the entire situation being presented and debated leaving him hanging, but decided that Mary needed him to work with her. 

Eventually, he lifted his hand in a weak-spirited portrayal of consent and Tony pressed their hands together. Peter pulled away, red faced, and found his seat at the table. Tony sat down across from him and Mary pecked him on the lips before heading off to the kitchen.

“Why don’t you two boys talk for a moment? Dinner will be ready in just a minute!” She chimed.

Peter held his hands in his lap as he looked across the table at Tony. Today, he was wearing a black turtleneck that hugged his chest in an almost distracting way. 

“So, Mary told you?”

Peter wasn’t sure how he was able to tell, but it probably had something to do with Peter being more shy than usual, though based on his past interactions with Tony, he wasn’t sure how it could be noticeable. 

Peter nodded in response.

“And what do you think?”

Peter hesitated for a moment before opening his mouth, “I think it could be a great opportunity for all of us, Mr. Stark.”

Tony pulled the corner of his mouth into a small smile, “yeah?”

“Yeah.” Peter let out a deep breath.

Mary came out of the kitchen with a large pot before setting it down on the table and grabbing a spoon. She began serving everyone; Tony first, then Peter, then herself. It seemed that her priorities were set up in that same order lately. 

“What’s going to happen with school?” Peter asked, forking a bite into his mouth.

“Well, you’ve only got a few weeks left, so we’re going to hold out on the move until summertime,” Tony took a drink from the glass of water in front of him, “Then next semester we’ll set you up at the private school in the area, they specialize in the literary arts, so I think you’ll quite like it.” Tony winks.

Peter feels his stomach get heavy. He doesn’t really want to eat anymore, but he can’t insult Mary by stopping before he’s even really started. 

Peter wanted to be a writer when he was older, or perhaps an editor or publisher- anything where he’d get to work with literature. Besides antiques, reading was his favorite thing in the world. A private school with a niche for literary arts sounded like a once distant dream, but he’d grown so accustomed to his public high school and the people there, he wasn’t sure if any of this was worth it.

Mary must’ve noticed his hesitation, “we’ll be less than an hour away driving, and you’ll be able to drive all on your own in a few months, so you can come visit Ned as often as you’d like.” She smiled.

Peter didn’t really know if that fixed things, but he supposed it was at least a bandaid to patch up the issue for the time being.

“Yeah, you’re right. And we’ll have all summer break, so maybe I could even go stay with Ned for a while-“

“Or,” Tony cut him off, “Ned could even come stay with us.”

Peter imagined Ned in a fancy house like he assumed Tony owned, and how he’d probably be fascinated with the whole environment. He laughed to himself.

“Yeah, yeah, I think Ned would like that.”

Tony glowed at the sight of what seemed to be a genuine smile from Peter. He hadn’t seen it too many times, but it truly was quite lovely.

  
  
  


The day they had moved in was a plethora of emotions for Peter. Saying goodbye to the apartment they’d lived in his entire life was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, but the smallest part of him felt oddly excited. Once he’d buckled himself into the backseat of Tony’s very expensive car, he found himself fantasizing about the fresh environment and what was to come of the drastic change in scenery. He thought about the new people he’d meet, and the new shops he’d get to explore, and he slowly was considering a newfound appreciation for “new”.

When they pulled in on the long driveway of the house, Peter realized how much he’d underestimated Tony’s wealth. This house was not even really a “house”, but rather, a castle. It was nicer than any other house he’d seen before, with a fountain in the front and pillars holding up the balcony. Peter began to feel dizzy. He did  _ not _ belong in a house like this.

It had turned out that Tony lived in a mansion, at least ten times the size of his apartment, and Peter had not only his own bedroom, but his own bathroom, and his own loft, fully furnished with couches and a TV. He no longer was to be sleeping on a bunk bed, but instead, a queen sized bed with silk sheets and a white duvet. Peter even had his own small balcony that overlooked the pool.

There was a _pool_.

Peter wondered what a man living alone was doing with a place like this- what he could’ve possibly needed all this furniture and all of this room for, but he didn’t think it would be appropriate to ask. He was sure Tony had his reasons. 

There weren’t maids, or a chef, or a butler, to Peter’s surprise. He didn’t know if it had to do with Tony’s desire to feel independent or self serving, but he was glad nevertheless. It was bad enough living with a man who was practically a stranger, he didn’t think he could handle living with housekeepers. 

When Peter came down to eat dinner that first night, Tony was waiting in the dining room in only swim trunks. 

“Ah, Peter! What do you think of your room?”

Peter caught his breath in his throat at the sight of Tony’s bare skin and wet hair. 

“Um, it’s really beautiful, Mr. Stark. I can’t even begin to thank you enough for taking us in.”

“Oh, please, Peter, don’t word it like that. It’s a pleasure having you and Mary here.”

Peter blushed, “so… have you and Mom been… swimming?” His eyes focused on Tony’s trunks for a moment too long.

Tony looked down at himself before laughing, “Yes, Mary and I decided to hit the pool while the movers finished dropping everything off. I hope you don’t mind that we didn’t ask you to join us, it’s just-"

“I understand,” Peter laughed awkwardly. 

“I hope you’ve brought a swimsuit, if not, we can go shop for one tomorrow.”

“I have one,” Peter blushed at the thought of swimsuit shopping with his mother’s boyfriend. 

“Perfect! You’re welcome to check out the pool whenever you’d like. Everything in this house is yours, now, too. The food, the books, the pool, whatever.” Tony cracked a smile.

Mary came in from outside adorned in a white bathing suit cover, hair dripping across the marble floor.

“Oh, hey, Peter! Have you gotten yourself settled in?” 

Peter nodded.

“That’s great, sweetie. You hungry?”

 

They had a salad for dinner that night, and then Tony had offered Peter a cup of hot chocolate, but he wanted to get back into his room sooner more than later. Watching Tony and Mary interact made his stomach turn more than he’d ever admit, and he was eager to call Ned to tell him about his new house. He missed him already, but the excitement and beauty of it all was almost enough to soothe the pain, if only for a moment.

  
  
  


When Peter woke up on the third morning of living in Tony’s house, he found himself getting used to it. Slowly but surely, his brain was adjusting to waking up to bright windows and white walls, and thick fluffy pillows, and too much space on his bed for spreading out. It was adjusting to the smell of flowers and the light scent of chlorine if he left the window cracked, and the soft sheets hugging his sleepy body. _He_ was adjusting. 

It hurt when he thought too much about the broken down couch in the old living room or the smell of dollar store hand soap or the tacky yellow walls of the kitchen, but he tried to keep those thoughts out of his mind. All of his most important keepsakes had come with him to this house, and if he just kept pretending he was on a really long vacation here, to be returning to his apartment in due time, it made it more ignorable. 

Peter had yet to try out the pool. He wasn’t the type to show off his body often, and he usually wore baggy sweaters and jeans as much as he could to avoid feeling at all exposed. He stepped out of bed and walked over to his window to look out on the pool. Mary had apparently already left for her first day at her new job, and Tony, who had the leisure of working at home, was probably in his office, because Peter did not spot him outside. It was a better time than any, he supposed.

Peter slipped on his pair of light blue swim shorts and a white t-shirt before heading down the stairs and out onto the patio. 

He looked around again, double checking for any company, before grabbing the hem of his t-shirt and slipping it over his head. He shook out his curls afterwards before making a running jump into the pool. This probably wasn’t the type of pool you were meant to jump into, but Peter was a teenager struggling with a big change, and he deserved to have this one pleasure. 

When he resurfaced, he began laughing at himself. How had he thought this would be so bad? He had a comfortable bed, a huge pool, and a nice host. Tony was very nice. He was so,  _ so  _ nice.

“What’s so funny, kid?” 

Peter whipped his head around to find Tony standing in the doorway with his bathing suit on. This was the second time he’d run into Tony less than fully clothed. But this time, he was not at any sort of advantage, noting that he, too was more than decently exposed.

“Oh, nothing, just… surprised, I guess.”

“Oh? How so?” Tony pried, stepping out and closing the sliding door behind him. He slid his sunglasses onto his face and suddenly Peter felt much more intimidated. Now, he couldn’t see his eyes. Tony could be looking  _ anywhere  _ and at  _ anything  _ and Peter would have no idea. Peter was no longer at a stagnant lack of advantage, but rather, at an actual _disadvantage_.

“I guess I just freaked myself out over this whole thing, and it’s turning out to be pretty cool.”

“You think it’s cool?”

“Yeah, Mr. Stark. It’s cool.”

“You wanna see something  _ really  _ cool?”

Peter was hesitant.

“...Yes.”

“Hey, JARVIS, play us some Morrissey.” 

And just like that, “Suedehead” by Morrissey was blaring from the speakers that Peter hadn’t even noticed were present.

“Woah, Mr. Stark, what is that?”

“Just a friendly household AI.” 

“Like an ‘Alexa’?”

“Kind of, but way better, and developed  _ by _ yours truly  _ for _ yours truly.”

“That’s  _ so  _ cool!”

Tony smirked, “told you, kid.”

Tony sat down on one of the pool chairs and pulled out a book. He leaned back and pulled his sunglasses to the end of his nose, beginning to read. Peter slowly got out of the pool, feeling silly for being a splashing little boy while Tony appeared suave and intellectual with his novel in hand. 

“What’re you reading?”

Tony looked up from his book, seemingly surprised at Peter willingly initiating a conversation with him.

“It’s called ‘What’s Eating Gilbert Grape’ by Peter Hedges, you might’ve seen the movie,” Tony paused when he saw the excitement on Peter’s face.

“That’s one of my favorite books!”

Tony set the book down. 

“Really? Didn’t realize kids your age still appreciated literature like that, but I suppose I should’ve expected more from someone like you.”

Peter flushed at that, unsure of what it meant.

“It’s hard to believe anyone wouldn’t have read it. It’s beautiful. A man overcomes the hardship of grieving the death of his father and taking on the burden of his family without ignoring them completely, and manages to find genuine love in an unlikely place,” Peter rambled.

“I completely agree. Though, it surprised me a bit when they revealed that his love interest was only fifteen years old.”

There was a pause, Peter looking at Tony to continue.

“I’ll admit, I started reading the book after I saw the movie, so, as portrayed in the film, I was expecting… a  _ woman. _ ” Tony finished. 

Peter looked down at the concrete as he stood a few feet from Tony, “well, did her age change the legitimacy of their affection for each other?” 

Tony smirked, “not at all. Just had that initial shock. But I got over it. It’s not about her age, it’s about what she means to him, and the role she plays in changing his life.”

Peter flushed, “I feel the same way.”

Tony watched Peter’s face for a moment.

“You know, Peter, that you blush quite often.” 

Peter felt his face get at least three shades darker, “Oh, um, yeah, I just-"

“You don’t have to explain yourself, your mother seems to be the same way. It’s really quite lovely.”

_ Lovely. _

What a word to use towards a boy so unknowingly deserving of it.


	2. bookstores and bicycles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter makes a new friend and gets closer with an old one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for some dirty stuff at the end of this chapter! hopefully you guys like this one :)  
> check out my Tumblr @downeyfordick and feel free to send me prompts!

Peter always liked to ride his bike when he got the chance, but the apartment in Queens hadn’t called for bike riding very often. The sidewalks and streets were always too crowded to really get going, where he could lift his feet off the pedals and let the wind kiss his face and blow through his curls as he rode down a hill. To Peter, that was the best feeling in the world, but he only got to experience it now and then, so he had to find less interesting ways to reach that kind of serenity, like reading or taking baths in their cramped little tub, or leaving the window open to take in all the sounds and smells of the city streets. 

Tony’s house was in a suburb, albeit a very fancy one. This meant there were lots of long, winding roads that wouldn’t be constantly congested with traffic. It was, Peter had decided, one of the best parts about living here so far. 

At around one in the afternoon of the fifth day he’d been living there, he asked Tony where he’d put his bike upon moving.

“Is it the, uh… the old red one?” Tony looked up from the papers he was inspecting in his office.

Peter shifted his weight, “that would be the one.”

Tony set the papers down and stood up, wincing, “It’s actually kind of buried in the garage right now, and I don’t think I want you to try getting it out by yourself. But you can use one of mine if you’d like.”

Peter hesitantly accepted and followed Tony out to the garage, where Tony’s bike stood pretty and proud. It was a baby blue beach cruiser with a white basket on the front. It didn’t really look like the kind of bike he could picture Tony riding. Peter gave Tony a confused look.

“This isn’t actually mine, it,” He looked at the bike for a moment, his eyes telling a story that his words didn’t have to, “it used to belong to someone else.”

Tony, too, must have had an appreciation for things that had been owned before, but something told Peter it wasn’t in the same way he did. 

“Well, thanks for letting me borrow it, Mr. Stark. I’ll be very careful with it,” he gave Tony a smile before placing his phone and wallet into the basket. 

Tony patted him on the back, “have fun, kid. There’s a book store not too far from here, maybe you could go check it out? Let me know if you find anything good. I’d like to read some of your recommendations when I get the chance.”

Peter felt himself getting pink in the cheeks, as he now attempted to avoid doing around the very observant Tony Stark. Not only did Tony touch Peter’s back, which he had never done before, but he valued Peter’s opinions. He wasn’t sure why, but that made his stomach feel heavy. Maybe it had to do with how much respect he had for the intellectual older man, or maybe it had something to do with not being treated like a child. Maybe it had to do with something else, too, but Peter didn’t want to think about that.

 

Peter rode through the neighborhood for a while, taking in the beauty of every single house. Most of them weren’t as big as Tony’s, nor were they obscured by trees and gates and a long driveway like Tony’s was. Nevertheless, they were still gorgeous and classy and they made Peter feel some sort of cinderella complex forming. He took in the smell of the air, which was far less polluted than the air back in Queens, and he felt  _ new _ . Everything around him was shiny and clean and glowing, and he felt himself blending in to it all, appreciating the charm of its differences. 

When Peter finally found the book store, “Sally’s Books”, he was relieved to find that it was small and quaint- nothing intimidating and extravagant. The shop was cozy and homey, and smelled like coffee. He soon discovered that they not only sold books, but also vinyl records and CDs. Peter felt like this was not going to be his last time in Sally’s Books. 

He gravitated towards the ‘used books’ bin, running his fingers along the rotting corners of the old novels, some wrinkled with water damage, some stained with droplets of tea, and decided he would purchase just one book, today. He wanted to pace himself so he’d have more reason to return later in the summer.  Peter found a copy of the novel  _ Lolita _ in the bin, where the cover had been torn just a bit, and many of the pages had been creased on the corners. It was only three dollars, considering its current condition, and Peter weighed the benefits of purchasing it. 

This book was a very well known taboo, the plot line focusing on a young teenage girl and her stepfather engaging in a sexual affair. Peter blushed at the thought of Mary or Tony finding such a filthy book in his room. 

The book was, however, a critically acclaimed classic, heavily referenced in other literature, and he felt as though he was missing something by having not yet read it. Peter awkwardly stuffed it under his arm before migrating to the vinyl records. 

He began to flip through the different titles, keeping an eye out for bands or albums he recognized. Sally’s Books had a surprisingly impressive selection of albums, and eventually he came across the The Queen is Dead album by The Smiths. This was Peter’s favorite album by the Smiths, so he plucked it from its shelf.

“That’s a good one.” A girl’s voice commented to the left of him. Peter turned to see a pretty girl, wearing almost no makeup, with unruly eyebrows and wild curls. After taking a moment to realize that she’d been talking to him, he responded.

“Yeah, it’s my favorite.”

“Do you own it on vinyl?” She gestured to the album. Her nails were cut short but were evidently well groomed.

“No, actually, which is why I’m considering taking this one home.”

“I think you should. Nothing quite like getting a buzz going and listening to The Smiths at two in the morning, it’s basically how I deal with anything that comes my way.” Peter laughed at that, despite not being able to relate, and decided that he’d buy it.

“Well after that visualization, I think you’ve convinced me.”

She cracked a smile and offered her hand, “I’m Michelle, but you can call me MJ.”

Peter shook her hand with his open one, “Peter.”

“Well, Peter, what’s your story? You look about my age but I haven’t seen you around before. Most teenagers know each other here, because there’s, like, hardly any to begin with.”

“Well it’s probably because I’m twenty five,” Peter joked, to which MJ laughed, “No, I actually just moved here with my mom. I’m starting up at Greenfield Academy Of The Arts next semester.”

“That’s where I go! But you probably would have guessed that, considering it’s the only school anywhere near here. Now you’ll know at least one person on your first day.”

“Well aren’t you a life saver!”

 

Peter and MJ talked for a while before exchanging phone numbers, then Peter paid for his book and his album before hopping back on his bike to ride home. Peter slowly felt a weight coming off of his shoulders as the days progressed, and now he even (kind of) had a friend. 

When he got home, Peter entered the living room with his book and album in hand, not expecting to find Tony sitting on the couch on his laptop. Apparently his office wasn’t often utilized, because he seemed to rarely ever be in there. 

Tony looked up at him over the screen of his computer, “Oh, hey, Pete! Find anything good?”

Tony didn’t ever call him “Pete”, and he didn’t really know how he felt about it.

“I found this album,” he set it down on the coffee table in front of Tony, and kept the book in his hand, hoping Tony wouldn’t ask about it.

“The Queen is Dead! That’s my second favorite album by The Smiths. I didn’t know you liked that kind of music,” Tony raised an eyebrow at Peter.

“I like all types of music, Mr. Stark,” Peter grabbed the album and began to set it up on the record player in the living room. This one was much nicer than the one he had in his room, which he’d gotten from the thrift store. “What’s your first favorite album by them?” He asked as the first song began to play.

“Louder Than Bombs,” Tony responded, “their song ‘Asleep’ has been a friend for me for many years,” he laughed. Peter wasn’t sure what that meant, but he knew that ‘Asleep’ was not a happy song, as most songs by The Smiths were not.

Tony eyed the book in Peter’s hand and it seemed to only now strike him that Peter had failed to mention it.

“What book did you get?” 

Peter’s face went red, “oh, it’s, um, nothing…”

Tony gave him a look, “Nothing?”

“Yeah.”

“Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“What book did you get?”

Peter felt a pit in his stomach as he choked out, “ _ Lolita _ ”.

“Isn’t that the one where-”

“Yes.” Peter cut him off, he didn’t need to hear Tony voicing the reason for his embarrassment. Tony looked surprised.

“Oh, I see. Well, I suppose every boy deserves his privacy, right? For me it was whatever magazines I could steal from the convenience store, but that’s not classy enough for you, Mr. Parker, is it?” He teased.

“Oh, god, I, no-”

“I’m just teasing you, Peter. I don’t care what you read, or what purposes you use it for.”

Peter took a deep breath. Talking about masturbation with Tony wasn’t really how he’d pictured spending his afternoon.

“Are you gonna tell mom?”

“That you’re reading a smutty romance novel? Nah,” he lowered his voice, “this can be our little secret.” 

Peter really hated his body right now, because the way those words came out was giving him the beginning of an erection and he really did not need to get hard when Mary wasn’t home and Tony was wearing a skin tight white tank top and his lips just looked extra red today and-

“So what did you think of the bookstore?”

Peter exhaled.

“It was really nice, I met a girl there.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, “A  _ girl _ ?”

Peter nodded.

“Was she, by chance, a pretty girl?”

“She was really pretty, yeah.”

“Well did you get her number?”

Peter nodded, “yeah, actually, I did.”

Tony stood up, setting the laptop on the coffee table before making his way over to Peter to offer him a high five.

Peter didn’t immediately accept and Tony lowered his hand, “Well? Am I not supposed to congratulate you? I’m trying my best here, Peter.”

Peter scratched at the back of his hair, nervously playing with his curls.

“Well actually, Mr. Stark, I, uh-”

Tony looked at him expectantly.

“I’m gay.” Peter spat out, feeling like he might pass out.

Tony’s eyes widen, “ _ oh. _ Oh! Sorry for the misunderstanding, I, uh-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Peter reassured him, not looking up from the ground.

“Does Mary know?”

Peter shook his head.

“Wow. Okay. Well, this can be another secret between us, yeah?” He put an arm on Peter’s shoulder, rubbing his thumb back and forth over his collarbone. Peter felt chills rising up his spine. 

“Yeah, Mr. Stark.” He breathed out. 

Tony surprised him by pulling him into a hug. At first, Peter was tense, but after a moment, he relaxed his shoulders and allowed the embrace to happen.

“You know I don’t think of you any differently now, right?” Tony said into his hair. Peter nodded against his shoulder. 

Tony pulled out of the hug, “you’re still brilliant little Peter with the blushy cheeks, no matter who you like.” He smiled.

And as if on cue, Peter felt a blush coloring his cheeks. 

“I think I’m going to go add this record to my collection. Thanks for having this talk with me, Tony.”

Peter had never called Tony by his first name before, but this time it had slipped out before he even realized it was happening. Tony’s face lit up at the name, evidently taking note of it.

“You can talk to me about anything, Peter.  _ Anything _ .”

Peter wasn’t sure how to respond.

“So, if you have any… you know,  _ questions _ . You can ask me. I don’t have to tell Mary.”

“Okay, Mr. Stark,” Peter smiled, “thank you.”

 

As Peter headed off to his room, he noticed he’d received a text from MJ:

**not sure if youre into this sort of thing but theres a huge party this friday, could be a good way for you to meet people**

Peter read the message over a few times before typing out:

**send me the address and ill think about it :)**

  
  
  


Tony couldn’t stop thinking about what Peter had told him. 

Peter was gay.

There was absolutely nothing wrong with that, and he honestly could have probably guessed, but having the confirmation made it hard to think about anything else. He didn’t know why it was such a big deal. It could have to do with the fact that he knew and Mary didn’t, but he assumed that was because it would be easier to break the news to someone who he’d known for a few months than someone he’d known his entire life. He couldn’t stop wondering if Peter had a boyfriend back home that he’d accidentally torn him away from. Perhaps Ned was a lover?

Part of Tony wanted to ask Peter, but the kid was still evidently intimidated by him, even if less so than before, and he didn’t want to push any boundaries. He supposed he’d have to wait for Peter to come to him. He had a feeling that would happen, even if it took a while. Peter seemed to be willing to strengthen their relationship, and Tony really hoped that much was true, because he wanted more than anything to make Peter feel comfortable. He seemed to be a kind and cunning boy, if he’d only open up to him.

  
  
  


Peter was lying on his bed, waiting for dinner to be ready, and reading  _ Lolita _ . To Peter’s surprise, the book was engaging, and he’d been reading without pausing for several hours. For this he was thankful, because he needed a distraction from the awkwardness of his conversation with Tony earlier that day. He had the book laid across his pillow, his hand holding up his head as he laid on his stomach, visualizing the words on the page as they entered his mind.

Peter began to read an entry where the male character, Humbert, is touching the young girl in her sleep. He comments on her innocence and her purity, and how touching her in this state is a loophole, of sorts. Peter felt himself becoming intrigued and aroused as he read on. 

The thought of the young, innocent girl in juxtaposition with the experienced, older man gave Peter a heat in his belly that he wished would go away. He had chosen this book for literary analysis, not for any perverse reason, (or at least not consciously), but now here he was, feeling the blood rushing to his cock as he pictured the rough, calloused fingers of an older man on his most sensitive parts. He found himself rutting his hips into the mattress below him, and suddenly his shorts became far too tight and constricting. 

Peter removed his shorts and placed one of his pillows below his stomach, elevating his chest and giving his hips a figure which he could rub against for just a taste of friction. He was so sensitive that the cool silk against the tip of his cock was almost enough to make him cum alone. 

His mind kept wandering, and time and time again Peter found himself reeling his thoughts back to a faceless older man, running his fingertips along the inside of his thighs, teasing as he neared his most vulnerable area, but never getting close enough. Peter’s bliss was repeatedly invaded by a particular face, and he chose to ignore it, signing it off to foreign hormonal reactions following today’s events. If a certain voice in his ear, softly telling him how good he was doing, how  _ pretty _ he looked, came to mind, well, that was simply an invasive thought to be cast away upon finishing. 

  
  
  


Tony had been in the kitchen with Mary, standing over her shoulder and discussing his current situation with work, asking how her day had gone, and commenting on how  _ absolutely delicious  _ the food smelled. 

“Hopefully it tastes as good as it smells,” She laughed, looking back at Tony.

“I have no doubts that it will taste even better,” he flirted.

“Well, we’re about to find out, so why don’t you go up and let Peter know that dinner is ready?”

 

Tony made his way up the stairs towards Peter’s bedroom, hearing the low hum of music increase in volume with each step he took. He recognized the song as  _ There Is a Light That Never Goes Out _ , and silently commented to himself on the kid’s taste. 

When he reached the door, knocking was not something he even considered. He had lived alone for a few years now, and he’d certainly never lived with any teenagers, so the thought had not even crossed his mind. He quickly learned from his mistake. 

Tony slowly opened the door to find Peter, stomach down on his bed, or rather,  _ Tony’s  _ bed, with a pillow underneath his hips, rocking back and forth. It took a moment for Tony to take everything in and fully grasp what he was looking at. 

Peter’s knuckles were white with how hard he was gripping the sheets, his toes curling against the bed. His hair was disheveled and covering his forehead, masking some of his face, but not enough. Tony could still see his parted lips, glistening with saliva as he let out soft whimpers, and his eyes, squeezed tightly shut. Tony noticed his copy of  _ Lolita  _ lying on the nightstand, opened, but obviously forgotten about. He hated that he noted how Peter was getting himself off purely on his own thoughts, which was really quite impressive. 

Tony felt his own jeans tightening at the scene before him, it was like something out of a porn video- a beautiful, curly haired twink on the verge of orgasm from simply rubbing his cock against a pillow. He was as sensitive as a teenager.

Because he  _ was _ a teenager.

Jesus  _ fucking _ Christ.

Tony turned around and shut the door as quietly as possible, attempting to appear as though he’d never seen anything. He sat down on the couch in the loft outside Peter’s room and took a deep breath, trying to recount the last forty five seconds. 

Peter was always so modest, covering himself up with whatever oversized piece of clothing that he had, and now, Tony wouldn’t be able to look at the boy, no matter how clothed he may be, without knowing what he looked like when he was about to  _ cum. _

After a moment, when Tony was confident that he had finished, he knocked on Peter’s door. He heard shuffling before a small voice responded, “uh, you can come in.”

Tony opened the door to find Peter under his covers, seemingly clothed, with his hair noticeably messy and his face flushed bright pink as though he’d just run a marathon. Tony was a dirty, dirty old man for knowing exactly why he looked this way.

“Dinner’s ready."

 


	3. cherries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter unknowingly evens the playing field. Everybody loves cherries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more dirtybadnasty stuff this chapter, I know I said slow burn in the tags but like this is the slowest burn I can do okay so don't let your patience wear thin its coming sooner than it probably should tbh
> 
> check out my Tumblr and send me drabble prompts or something if ya want @downeyfordick

 

Peter had fallen asleep early that night, presumably due to his busy day, but the softness of his bed and the intensity of his orgasm surely didn’t help. 

While he slept, he dreamt of rough hands parting his soft, pale thighs and whispers against his hip of, “you’re so pretty, darling, all worked up for me,” and, “daddy’s going to make you feel  _ so good _ ”. Peter woke up, then, in a sweat, vaguely remembering the ventures of his subconscious moments before. He felt disgusted with himself.

_ Daddy _ ?

Peter hadn’t ever been particularly into the “daddy” thing, at least not as far as he was aware, and he wrote it off to reading too much  _ Lolita _ before bed. Perhaps he’d have to give that book a rest, it was clouding his mind in a way he wasn’t sure he much cared for.

Peter looked down at himself, laying halfway on top of the covers, as he must’ve kicked them off when he got hot in his sleep, and became far too aware of his erection. He cursed himself for his teenage stamina, considering he’d orgasmed only a few hours ago, but now stood at full hardness yet again because his mind couldn’t stay far enough from the gutter to get him through the night. 

He knew he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep in this state, and not simply because of his arousal. He’d left the window open and his room was uncomfortably hot, and his throat was begging him for something to drink. 

Peter stood up and closed the window before turning on his ceiling fan, then he padded out of his room as quietly as he could, careful to not wake Tony or Mary, and left the door open in attempt to let his room air out for a few minutes. 

As Peter entered the kitchen, he caught sight of the clock on the kitchen stove and realized that it was only half past midnight. He hadn’t been sleeping for more than a few hours, and he had a full night ahead of him. Peter grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it up with water, then chugged it all in seconds. He filled it up a second time, but this time decided to only drink half of the glass so he wouldn’t have to get up again in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. He sifted through the cabinets and the fridge in attempt to find a snack, and decided on having a few cherries. Peter loved cherries, they reminded him of going on trips to Wisconsin to visit family and picking them from the cherry trees, collecting them in a plastic container to be kept in the house, but always sneaking a few straight from the branch.

Peter’s father would pluck them with him, and when he’d see Peter pop one in his mouth and begin working around the pit, he’d laugh, “this can be our little secret,” and then he’d pop one into his mouth, too.

Now, that memory made him feel lots of things at once. 

That was the same thing Tony had said to him a few hours ago. 

 

After eating a few, he put them back in the fridge, wanting to save some for the next day, and he headed out of the kitchen. On his way to his room, he passed by Mary’s room, which she now shared with Tony, and heard something from within the room hit the wall. He stopped in his tracks, waiting for a follow up sound, hoping nobody was hurt.

Then Peter heard something he had  _ never  _ wanted to hear.  _ Ever. _

“God, yes, Tony…”

Peter felt like he was going to vomit. He could hear his mother  _ moaning _ , and he knew exactly what was going on.

Of course Peter had assumed they had a sexual relationship, they were adults who had been together for several months, and now shared a bed. It felt weird for Peter to think about his mother doing anything like this, but it wasn’t something he was surprised by. 

He was just disgusted to witness it firsthand.

He started to walk past their bedroom, trying to pretend like he’d never heard that, when a deeper voice came booming through the wall.

“ _ Fuck _ , I’m close.”

And Peter knew that voice, too.

Tony.

Peter wasn’t sure why he felt his feet become glued to the floor upon hearing that, but suddenly it was the only thing he could think about.

“Feels  _ so good _ , babe.”

Peter found himself tuning out any other sound completely that wasn’t Tony’s voice. 

Then he felt his erection returning. 

He cursed at himself as he sat down on the floor of the hallway, leaning against the wall, and focused his hearing in on the man’s pleas. 

“Yeah, fuck, oh my  _ god,” _ he heard Tony choke out, and the way those dirty sounds slipped out in his perfectly masculine voice had Peter slipping a hand between his thighs. 

He started rubbing at himself teasingly over his boxers, attempting to will himself to not completely masturbate  _ on the floor  _ in the  _ hallway. _

He could tell based on the sounds Tony was making that he wasn’t far off from his orgasm, and Peter had to slap a hand over his mouth to stifle the whimpers that dared to come out. 

“I’m cumming,  _ fuck,  _ I’m cumming!” Tony shouted, and Peter found himself rutting his hips upwards into his hand before he felt a wet spot form in his boxers.

Peter had just cum in his underwear from hearing Tony orgasm, and the guilt of the situation set in seconds later.

_ What the fuck is wrong with me? _ Peter thought as he stood up, pulling at his boxers due to the discomfort, and walked up the stairs to his room as quickly as he could.

Peter took a shower, attempting to wash away the disgust he felt towards himself, and hoped that if they heard the water running at one in the morning, no one would ask him about it.

  
  
  


Tony woke up to an empty bed, as he knew he would, and reminded himself that it was Friday. Tomorrow, May would be home all day and they’d be able to spend some time together. 

He got up from bed, back cracking as he did so, and headed into the bathroom to brush his teeth. His appearance in the mirror was almost laughable. He was in only his boxers, hair a mess, and bags under his eyes from the intense night that had preceded. 

He stepped out of the bathroom and headed into the kitchen to grab some breakfast, having only thrown on a t-shirt incase Peter was there.

_ Peter. _

Suddenly yesterday’s events were rushing back to him and he couldn’t stop seeing it in his mind. 

Peter’s hair over the pillow, eyes closed, mouth parted, hips jerking, body glowing with desperation. 

He hated to think about it, but it was hard to ignore. He shoved the thought to the back of his mind and braced himself for whatever interaction that may come.

Tony turned into the kitchen, and lo and behold, Peter was sat on the counter, bowl of cherries in hand, kicking his feet back and forth as they dangled. He was wearing a huge NYU crewneck sweatshirt where the logo was faded to the point of being hard to read, and seemingly nothing else. Tony cleared his throat.

Peter looked over at him and his face immediately went red.

“Oh, um, I’m sorry, do you want me to get off the counter?”

“No, no, don’t worry about it.” Tony said, watching the kid carefully as he walked past him to get to the toaster. The kid seemed jittery, avoiding eye contact more than usual, and Tony felt a pit in his stomach. He’d really thought he was breaking through with him, why was he suddenly acting so  _ off? _

Perhaps he’d seen Tony watching him?

Tony felt his heart rate pick up at the idea of that, Peter knowing Tony had watched him for several moments more than necessary. He’d never trust him. And oh, Tony wanted so badly for Peter to trust him. 

“Is that breakfast?” He attempted conversation as he waited on his bread to toast, pointing at Peter’s bowl of cherries.

“Yeah, I love cherries.”

“I can tell.” 

Peter looked down at his feet as he brought another cherry to his lips and began working around the pit. 

“You know, when I was younger I could tie cherry stems with my tongue.”

Peter’s face got several shades darker.

“You could?”

“Yeah, used to use it to impress the girls… and guys, I suppose,” he added. Peter gave him a look but didn’t comment on it. “Haven’t done it in a long time, though.” 

Peter offered him the bowl of cherries. Tony raised his eyebrow before accepting. He probably couldn’t do it anymore anyway. He grabbed a cherry and looked at Peter, “can you do it? We could have a race to see who can do it faster.”

Peter shrugged, “I’ve never tried, but okay.”

They both plucked the stem from their cherries and popped them into their mouths, making eye contact as they worked them around with their tongues.

Peter found the whole situation borderline inappropriate, but it wasn’t going to stop him from trying to win.

Peter reached his fingers into his mouth and pulled out the cherry stem, tied in a knot. He looked expectantly at Tony, who did the same moments later.

“You won, kid.” Tony laughed. 

Peter looked at the stem and then at Tony’s mouth, “but you’ve still got it.”

A tense silence broke out.

Tony found himself staring at Peter’s lips, red and wet from the cherries he’d been eating, and then at his big brown doe eyes, full of wonder and curiosity from Tony’s challenge- and eventual loss.

Tony grabbed his plate of toast then, and smiled at Peter, “I’m going to go do some work in my office, let me know if you need anything.” 

Peter nodded and waved as Tony left the room. 

  
  
  


Peter had been texting MJ all day, and they’d quickly learned that they had a lot in common. They both liked to read and to write, though MJ fancied poetry more than Peter did. Peter was more into writing short stories, or sometimes essays. They both listened to an abundance of eighties alternative music and indie pop, even if they didn’t always want to admit it, and they both loved to go thrift shopping. MJ had told him about a thrift shop in the area and they agreed that they’d go together soon. Peter was relieved to hear something like that still existed in such a nice area, and then it occurred to him how much cool old rich people stuff he’d probably find. 

Peter had learned, however, that he and MJ were also different in many ways. MJ had a lot more money than she let on, as expected from someone living in a neighborhood like this, and she had grown up in a wealthy family. MJ also liked to smoke weed, and apparently she did it often. Peter had never tried drugs or alcohol, besides having some champagne at his cousin’s wedding one time. Ned had told him a story about his dad sharing a beer with him when he was fifteen, and Peter longed to have a moment like that. Mary wouldn’t offer him alcohol, or at least he didn't think she would. Due to things that had occured in his family before Peter was born, Mary was very skeptical of any kind of substance abuse, but since she drank wine from time to time, Peter assumed she couldn’t have been completely against it. 

Nevertheless, Peter was terrified to ask her if he could go to the house party down the street that night. MJ had insisted it would be “chill”, but that there was probably going to be a lot of people, and a lot of smoking and drinking. She said it would be fun and nothing to be nervous about, and reassured Peter that she’d stick by his side the whole time if he wanted her to because most the people at these things were only tolerable for a few moments at a time anyway. 

Peter would have just avoided asking her altogether and made up some lie, but there were a few problems with that. Peter couldn’t tell her he was sleeping over at someone’s house, because they hadn’t been living here long enough for Peter to have a friend close enough to sleep over with- especially if Mary hadn’t met them yet. Peter was also a terrible liar, so Mary would have been able to see right through him. And finally, Peter didn’t know what could happen at that party, so if he ended up in a situation where he was unsafe, he didn’t want to have lied about his location.

As Peter sat out on the ledge of the pool, feet emerged in the water, he attempted to come up with a foolproof plan. He wanted to go to this party. He really wanted to make friends and get familiar with at least a few people from Greenfield Academy before the first day of school, considering everyone else already knew each other. He also had never been drunk or high before, and according to MJ, it was a pretty cool feeling. Peter always felt like such a baby, having barely even kissed anyone while most kids his age were delving headfirst into their sexual discoveries, and the least he could do was be able to say he’d been tipsy before. He also needed to get his mind off his own taboo wants that were currently plaguing his thoughts at every chance they got. Perhaps he’d meet a nice boy at the party. There had to be at least a few cute gay kids in the area, right?

As Peter was emerged in his thoughts, he became distracted by the sound of the sliding door closing behind him. Moments later, Tony was taking a seat on the ledge of the pool a couple feet away from him, and dipping his feet in the water as Peter had.

“Hey, Mr. Stark.” Peter said, looking over at the man.

“Hey, Pete. Hope you don’t mind me joining you, I just couldn’t stand being holed up in my office any longer. I had to take a break.”

Peter nodded in response, watching the water ripple with each movement of his feet. 

“You okay, kid? You look deep in thought.” 

Peter looked up at Tony, who had a look of mild concern painting his handsome face. His beard looked a bit scruffier than its usual crisp trim, and he considered that Tony hadn’t shaved today. His hair was natural, too, void of its product, and thus falling naturally in every which way, looking incredibly soft. Peter resisted the urge to run his hands through it. 

He snapped out of his observations, “yeah, um, there’s just this thing.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, “do you want to talk about this ‘thing’?”

Peter debated telling Tony about the party. On one hand, he feared Tony would judge him for even wanting to attend one, considering it seemed like Tony saw Peter as someone who stood out from typical teenagers and cared about better things than getting drunk and hooking up with random guys in foreign bedrooms. Not that that was what was going to happen at the party. 

However, Tony also seemed more laid back than Mary, and he seemed like he might be intrigued with the idea of Peter putting himself out there, likely taking into consideration his own teenage years and the rich kid house parties he attended. Perhaps Tony could help convince Mary to let Peter go to the party. 

“There’s a party tonight.”

Tony looked surprised for a moment, but then tried to hide it, “Oh, where at?”

“It’s on Redwood Avenue, so it’s only a few streets over.”

“And I assume you’re wanting to attend this party?”

Peter rubbed at the back of his neck, “Uh, yeah.”

“Where’d you hear about it?”

“MJ told me about it. She thinks it’ll be a good opportunity for me to make some new friends and stuff.”

Tony looked like he was weighing the benefits of allowing Peter to go, even though Peter knew it didn’t really matter what Tony said, the decision ultimately laid in Mary’s hands.

“Will there be drinking at this party?”

Peter hesitated. He could lie to Tony, but then he thought again about how poorly the situation could end up if he didn’t tell the truth.

“Yeah, um, I think so.”

Tony nodded, “and do you think you’ll be participating in the drinking at this party?”

Peter shrugged, “I don’t really know, Mr. Stark.”

This was true. Peter thought getting a little tipsy sounded like fun, but he didn’t know what he’d do once he was at the party. He could end up feeling uncomfortable and not trusting himself to get intoxicated.

“I don’t really see a problem with it.” Tony finally said, putting his hand in the water then running it through his hair.

“Could you, maybe, talk to mom about it? I don’t know that she’s going to care for the idea, but she seems to value what you have to say a lot.”

Tony laughed, “yeah, kid, I’ll see what I can do.”

Peter smiled, “thanks, Mr. Stark.”

They sat in silence for a moment before Tony asked, “do you think Ned’s going to get jealous?”

Peter was mildly shocked that Tony had even recalled Ned’s name, considering he’d never met him and Peter had only mentioned him a few times.

“What do you mean?”

“You said you were going to mingle, right?”

Peter was confused, “yes, but, I don’t see why Ned would get jealous? He’s my best friend, and he knows that.”

A look of realization washed over Tony’s face before he responded, “oh, right, of course, I just thought maybe-”

Then it struck Peter, “wait, did you think Ned was… my  _ boyfriend? _ ”

Tony began to explain himself before Peter bursted out laughing. 

“Ew, Mr. Stark, no way! Ned is totally straight, and also, he’s  _ Ned _ , so I don’t really think that would ever happen.”

Now, Tony was laughing too, “Oh, Peter, I’m sorry for making assumptions.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Peter insisted, playing with the string of his shorts, “I don’t have a boyfriend,” he added.

“No?” Tony asked, looking a bit surprised.

“Never.” Peter blushed.

“Really? I can’t imagine why, with a pretty face like yours I’d imagine you’d have suitors knocking down your door.”

Peter felt like his face was on fire, “you think I’m pretty?”

“I mean, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t.”

There was silence as Peter let his words sink in. He didn’t know how to respond to that. He wasn’t sure that was something you were supposed to say to your girlfriend’s sixteen year old son, but it gave him butterflies in his stomach nevertheless. No one had ever called Peter “pretty” before; handsome, sure, his grandma told him how much of a handsome young man he was all the time, but “pretty” had a certain charm to it that felt so much more special. Flowers were pretty. Sunsets were pretty. But was  _ Peter _ ?

After a moment, Tony was back to being the serious adult, “You know to be careful tonight, right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Seriously, Peter. People do stupid things when they’re under the influence. If anyone makes you feel uncomfortable, even for a second, you call me, okay? We don’t have to tell Mary, and I’ll come pick you up.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

He nodded, “Anytime, Pete.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> party is gonna be next chapter, might call for some cameos so comment or hit up my Tumblr @downeyfordick if you wanna suggest characters to attend the party (or you can drop your first name and a bit about your appearance and maybe I'll make you an extra lmao im bad at coming up with minor characters by myself)  
> Thanks for all the support! you guys are driving me to write this, like, obsessively <3


	4. vodka and lemonade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter goes to the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for some explicit shit this chapter, debatably non-con because Peter is not sober, but theres no actual touching each other
> 
> this fic takes inspiration from this one: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14854490  
> also I'm making a playlist for it: https://open.spotify.com/user/warmincoldlove/playlist/5gAi9AqpL6j98jlcnu9TMR?si=vTunQwE1Sm-xH9nUiN9uFg
> 
> and someone mentioned how this fic felt like a moodboard, um I'd actually die if someone made a moodboard for this fic? so if you wanna do that or if you just wanna talk im @downeyfordick on Tumblr

Peter didn’t really know what you were supposed to wear to a house party, especially not one in a neighborhood of exclusively million-dollar homes. He decided to go with a pair of jeans, cuffed at the bottoms, and a white t-shirt with the sleeves rolled. It was simple enough that he didn’t think anybody would think much of it. He left his hair natural, allowing a few curls to fall into his face, and he sprayed on a bit of Tony’s cologne that he’d found in one of the cabinets of his bathroom. It was a Chanel cologne called “Bleu” and it smelled clean and masculine. It smelled like Tony.

Peter decided that he’d ride his bike to the party, considering it was only a few streets over from Tony’s house, and so he wore his beat up white converse. He hoped nobody would judge him for that.

When he’d met Michelle, she’d been wearing ripped up old jeans that looked like they used to belong to somebody’s dad, drawn in at the waist with a huge leather belt, and a loose-fitting tank top. She didn’t look like she’d just walked out of a Gucci ad or anything, so he assumed not everyone dressed like the millionaires they were.

He snapped a quick picture of himself in the mirror and sent it to MJ for good measure, to which she responded:

**love the fit, ill be in the basement, text me when you get here**

 

Peter was procrastinating leaving for the party as much as he could, anxiety building in his stomach each second he waited. He wanted to appear “fashionably late”, but he also was just nervous. He’d never been to a “real” high school party, let alone one full of rich kids, none of which he knew. He’d already gone through the hassle of convincing Mary to let him go. He couldn’t back out now.

Peter headed down the stairs after what felt like hours of mentally preparing himself, and said goodbye to Mary and Tony, who were sitting on the couch in the living room.

“Be safe,” Mary warned.

“Have fun,” Tony winked.

Peter flushed, recalling his conversation with Tony earlier that day, and headed towards the garage. He felt a bit weird taking Tony’s beach cruiser to a party, but hoped rich kids wouldn’t be prone to stealing bikes, considering most of them had the money to buy new bikes whenever they wanted.

The night was thankfully not very hot, but rather, a comfortable night for a short bike ride. The breeze felt sweet as it blew his shirt against his chest. He felt his nerves dissipating as he neared the house. He could hear music blasting from a while away, and it was no mystery which house was hosting. There were several expensive cars parked out front and people scattered across the large lawn. Peter took a sharp inhale as he propped his bike up around the side of the house and approached the entrance. The door was open, allowing people to go in and out as they pleased.

As soon as Peter was through the entrance, he was already caught up in a sea of teenagers, each smelling of their own respective classy fragrance- it was reminiscent of a department store, if people smoked weed in department stores.

The music was so loud he couldn’t hear the conversation going on between a girl and a guy directly next to him. He pulled out his phone and shot MJ a text:

**Standing by front door, where’s the basement**

 

She responded almost immediately:

**stay where you are, im coming to you**

 

Peter was reluctant to stay where he was, considering where he was was between two couples, both very interested in each other, not taking note of the Peter they were cornering into a wall. He spotted MJ over a few heads, and raised his hand up, waving it back and forth in attempt to get her attention. She smiled at him and pointed, pushing her way through the crowd to get to Peter.

“Hey, Peter!” She shouted into his ear once she’d gotten to him. Peter winced, noticing that her eyes appeared a bit glazed over.

“Hey MJ,” he began, a little above his regular speaking voice. MJ shook her head.

“Can’t hear you!” She shouted, “Follow me!”

She grabbed his wrist and guided him through the mess of partygoers until they reached a door. She opened it to reveal stairs.

Peter went ahead, MJ trailing behind and closing the door behind them as they ventured downstairs. The music down here was much lower, and the first thing Peter noticed was that something by “Cigarettes After Sex” was playing. The music was far more mellow than the jumpy pop music they’d been playing upstairs. The room was vaguely clouded with smoke and reeked of what Peter could only assume was marijuana.

Peter turned around and looked at MJ, who made a large gesture to the room, “welcome to The Hot Box.”

The Hot Box, as it turned out, was exactly what it sounded like. It was where the more mellow kids came to sit around and smoke weed while they listened to their indie music and flirted with each other. There were several couches, a TV that wasn’t on, a ping pong table, and a white foldable table that had all kinds of drinks and a plate of brownies.

MJ led Peter to a circle of kids, half of which were sitting on the sectional couch, and half of which were sitting on the floor.

“Hey guys, this is Peter.”

Peter waved a hand. A few them muttered a “hey, Peter”, and a few didn’t acknowledge him at all.

One guy, though, decided to break Peter’s obvious awkwardness.

“Hey, dude, come sit!”

Peter sat down next to him and MJ. The boy was wearing a huge green sweater that Peter noted was something he would probably wear. He had fluffy blonde hair and noticeably blue eyes.

“I’m Alex.”

Peter decided that Alex was cute.

“Hey, Alex.” He debated offering his hand to shake, but then he remembered where he was.

“So, Peter, why haven’t I met you before?”

“I just moved here with my mom.” Peter felt so out of place in this situation, but Alex being nice made him feel the slightest bit better.

“That’s dope,” Peter cringed at the word, “do you smoke, Peter?”

Peter shook his head, “I’ve never tried it before…”

“Do you want to?”

Peter looked at MJ expectantly, who only shrugged.

“Uh, yeah, sure, why not?”

Alex laughed and turned to the boy sitting next to him, who had long brown hair and the beginning of a scruffy beard, “Bucky, pass the blunt”.

‘Bucky’ seemed to snap out of his daze at hearing his name.

“What? Oh, yeah, here.” He handed the blunt to Alex, who took a small hit, seamlessly so, before handing it over to Peter. Peter could feel anxiety raising in his stomach, but he didn’t back down.

“If you’re inhaling right, it’s probably gonna hurt,” MJ warned. Peter nodded, placing the blunt between his lips. He sucked in, and suddenly his lungs filled with fire. It was burning hot inside his throat and for a moment he felt like he might die.

He started coughing, smoke coming out in violent puffs with each hack. MJ started laughing at him, and Peter felt his face get red. He finally caught his breath before frowning over at MJ, “Hey, it was my first time. Leave me alone.”

MJ shook her head, “no, Peter, you actually didn’t do that bad, I just knew that was gonna happen. But hey, you’ve officially smoked weed! How do you feel?”

Peter took a moment to take it in.

He didn’t really feel different at all.

“Besides my throat hurting, I feel the same.”

“Do you want to feel something?” Alex asked.

Peter hesitated before nodding.

“Then you have to take a few more hits.”

Peter seriously didn’t know if he could handle that. He felt like he was going to cough up his entire lung from one drag.

Suddenly, a boy with long, wavy black hair cut in from the other side of the circle, “You don’t have to do that. We have fruity drinks.”

“Or you could always just enjoy the night sober, if that’s what you feel comfortable with,” an athletically built blonde boy chimed in.

“Don’t listen to Steve, he’s lame,” Bucky said.

“Hey, just because I’m straightedge doesn’t mean I’m lame. I have football to worry about,” he turned to Bucky, giving him a suggestive look, “You know how drugs affect stamina…”

Bucky closed the space between their faces and kissed him.

_Oh._

Peter waited for somebody to react, but nobody seemed to care. In an odd way, it put Peter at ease. Other gay people _did_ exist in this area, and apparently nobody else minded.

The boy with black hair rolled his eyes, “‘Peter’, was it? Come with me.” He stood from his spot on the couch and beckoned Peter over. Peter turned to MJ, but she was in the middle of taking a hit.

Peter got up and followed the boy with black hair to the drink table, where he poured Peter a glass of something clear, then mixed it with pink lemonade.

“Here.” He handed it to Peter. He accepted the cup, but didn’t immediately take a drink.

“Um… what is this?”

The boy laughed, “it’s just vodka and lemonade. If you want to get through a night with these imbeciles, you’re going to need it. Trust me. I don’t want to get lung cancer, unlike the rest of these burnouts, so it helps me calm down. Without it I think I’d end up killing my brother by the end of the night. He’s bloody annoying when he’s under the influence.”

Peter suddenly noticed the boy’s light British accent. It was really quite fitting, he appeared posh and slightly stuck up. Something about the whole persona was oddly attractive.

“I, um, didn’t get your name?”

“Oh, right! Loki,” the boy offered.

“Loki… like-”

“The Norse god, yes. My brother’s name is Thor. Our parents were really into mythology, I suppose.”

Peter furrowed his brows, “Interesting. Well, uh, nice to meet you, Loki.”

Loki raised his own cup, “and you as well, Peter.”

They clinked their cups together before taking a swig.

Peter cringed at the taste at first, the vodka not very well masked by the weak flavor of the lemonade, but he decided to go back in for another drink. This time he sent it straight to his throat, not giving it any time to sit on his taste buds. He supposed this wasn’t so bad.

Loki led him back to the circle of people, where there had been a new addition. An attractive black boy was now sitting next to Steve, passing the blunt along to Bucky. He had his hair in braids tied up in a ponytail on top of his head, and he was wearing rounded glasses and a denim jacket with a fur collar. He looked older than Peter.

As Peter sat down back between MJ and Alex, the boy suddenly took notice of him. He smirked.

“And who’s this?” He said to no one in particular, looking Peter dead in the eyes.

MJ rolled her eyes, “Erik, lay off, we don’t even know if he likes boys.”

Peter turned to her to find her looking at him expectantly, likely waiting for a denial or confirmation.

Peter felt nervous exposing his sexuality to a group of strangers, but Bucky and Steve had kissed, and he was pretty sure MJ was a lesbian, so he couldn’t imagine any of them would make a big deal out of it.

“No, um, I do, actually.”

Erik’s face lit up, “well isn’t that just perfect?”

  


Peter had gone through his first drink surprisingly quickly, and before he even noticed his cup was empty, Loki was handing him another.

“Your cheeks are getting red.” He commented.

“They do that a lot,” Peter shrugged.

“Probably means you’re drunk.” MJ offered.

“What? No- I don’t… I don’t feel drunk…”

“Finish that cup and then tell me that again,” Alex laughed, gesturing to the almost full cup in his hand.

Peter didn’t really feel anything besides a light headache coming on.

“I feel like dancing,” MJ announced, standing up, “Peter?” She reached out her hand.

Peter and MJ had discussed staying together tonight, and after his first drink, he figured dancing didn’t sound so bad.

“Sure,” he took her hand and stood up.

“I’m coming, too,” Erik joined.

The three of them went up the stairs and into the sea of kids where the music was louder and faster, and everyone seemed to be grinding on each other. Peter blushed nervously. He didn’t know how to dance like that.

MJ pulled him into the center of one of the clusters with her, “stop worrying so much,” she said in his ear, “just feel the music.”

MJ started rocking her hips back and forth to the beat of the song, falling easily into the rhythm. Watching her, Peter realized how easy it was to tell that she was high. He laughed, before attempting to mimic her movements.

“Yeah!” She laughed, “see, Peter! You’ve got it!”

After a moment, Peter found himself feeling more confident in his dancing, and he started putting more spirit into it, not really caring about what anyone else thought anymore. Incidentally, the liquid in his cup was becoming increasingly scarce.

He felt a hand on his hip, but was so immersed in the music he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“I like watching you move like this,” a voice was low in his ear, and suddenly a body was pressed up against the back of him.

“Erik?”

“That would be my name, but I can think of a few other things you could call me instead,” he flirted.

Suddenly, Peter become way too aware of everything touching him. He could feel every seam of his clothes, the less than cold temperature of his remaining drink sloshing in his hand, and most prominently, the outline of an erection pressing into his lower back.

“I, I, um,” When did forming words get so difficult?

“What is it, baby?”

“I don’t- I don’t feel… so good…”

“Well how about I get you out of this crowd?”

Peter nodded, allowing Erik to lead him from the rest of the dancers as his hand rested on Peter’s hip. Erik began leading him towards the stairs.

“Erik, I don’t want, I don’t want to go upstairs-”

“Shh, you don’t want to be around all this loud music do you?”

Peter shook his head furiously, “no, Erik, can I? Can we go outside?”

Erik was started to get frustrated.

“Come on, Peter. It’s hot outside. Just come upstairs with me.”

One thousand warning alarms were sounding inside Peter’s head.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out before pulling himself away from Erik and disappearing into the crowd until he could find the exit.

When Peter finally got to his bike, he noticed that the world was kind of spinning. He sat down in the grass next to his bike, taking deep breaths. He was kind of freaking out right now.

It was then that Peter realized there was no way he was going to be able to ride his bike home.

  
  


Tony had been sitting on the couch, letting one of his records play, after having just said goodnight to Mary. She was turning in early, and asked Tony to make sure Peter got home safe.

As if on cue, Tony felt his phone buzzing in his lap.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Stark… I’m, oh my _god_ , can you come pick me up? You- can you _please,_ Mr. Stark? Everything is spinning and-”

Tony sighed, “I’m on my way.”

 

When Peter entered his car, the first thing that he said was, “bike.”

Tony knew what he meant and got out to put the bike into the trunk of the car. He got back in and started the car, beginning back towards his house.

“Have you been drinking?” Tony already knew the answer.

“Just a bit.” Peter slurred. Tony rolled his eyes. He watched Peter’s face break out with fear upon realizing that Mary would be home.

“Is… is mom awake?”

To Peter’s delight, Tony shook his head, “No, she went to bed a bit ago. And if you’re quiet enough when we get into the house, she’ll probably never even know this happened.”

Peter nodded, “okay. Quiet. Got it.”

  


When they pulled in, Tony helped Peter out of the car and kept his arm around his waist.

“Now remember, stay quiet, okay?”

“Right, as quiet as possible!” Peter stage-whispered enthusiastically. Tony had to resist laughing, not wanting to encourage the kid. Tony helped Peter up the stairs and into his bedroom, where Peter sat down on the bed. Tony closed the door behind them.

“How are you feeling?”

Peter laughed a little bit, “weird.”

Tony smiled, “yeah?”

Peter nodded, before looking down at his jeans and frowning.

“I can’t sleep in these!”

Before Tony could even react, Peter was unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them down his legs, where they got stuck at his ankles, since he was still wearing his shoes.

“Mr. Stark, they’re stuck,” Peter whined, pouting over dramatically.

Tony kneeled in front of Peter, taking each one of his shoes off, then pulling his jeans down his legs. He didn’t really think was necessary, and being this close to Peter’s exposed thighs was something he knew he was not supposed to be doing, especially not when he was drunk.

Tony stood back up, then sat down on Peter’s bed, next to where the boy was laying. He was in only his white shirt and his boxers, legs spread lazily across the bed and fingers playing with his waistband as he looked up at Tony.

Tony wasn’t sure what he did, but some greater force was tempting him right now.

Despite driving Peter home, he’d had a few glasses of wine with Mary before bed, and he was not fully equipped to deal with the situation at hand.

“Did you at least enjoy the party?” Tony asked, avoiding looking at Peter anywhere that wasn’t his face.

“Mhm,” Peter started, closing his eyes, “well, I did, until this guy tried to get me to go upstairs with him, and he kept touching my hip and-”

“What? Peter, what guy? What did he do to you?” Tony felt his stomach get heavy. If some asshole took advantage of Peter he was going to find him and take care of it.

“Not- not really, anything, he just, well, I was dancing,” Peter began. Tony hated that he couldn’t help picturing Peter, swaying with the help of his liquid courage and unintentionally seducing everyone within a mile radius. The boy radiated with a sex appeal that he was so blissfully unaware of.

“I was dancing and he came up behind me and, Mr. Stark, he was _hard!_ I could feel it, like, pressing into me, and it was- I’ve never felt something like that before, Mr. Stark,” Peter was rambling.

Tony felt his blood boiling at the thought of some random teenager taking advantage of Peter’s innocence.

“But you didn’t go upstairs with him?”

Peter shook his head.

“Was he attractive?”

Peter nodded, “he was _very_ attractive.”

“So why didn’t you go upstairs with him?” Tony was glad he’d been smart enough to dodge that bullet, but in his current state, it was hard to believe.

“Didn’t want him to touch me.” Peter still had his eyes closed.

“Why’s that?” Tony was playing with fire right now.

“Only want _you_ to touch me, Mr. Stark,” he mumbled.

And, _oh, Jesus._

Tony knew Peter didn’t know what he was talking about, he was _so_ drunk, and hadn’t quite learned how to handle his alcohol yet.

“Want you to touch me so bad, Mr. Stark,” Peter continued, unprompted. Tony felt the air get thicker.

“Peter, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tony tried.

Peter opened his eyes, looking up at Tony from under his pretty long lashes, “think about you,” Peter slipped out, barely comprehensible.

“What?”

“I- I think about you, think about you when I,” Peter ran his fingertips up his exposed inner-thigh, “when I _play with myself_ …”

Tony couldn’t breathe. The imagery of Peter thrusting his narrow hips sporadically into his pillow to get himself off invaded his mind, but this time, he thought about it being for _him._

Why had Peter used such vile wording? Tony may’ve been able to handle “masturbate”, he may’ve even been able to handle “touch myself”, but “ _play”_ dripped with such a sinful innocence, reminding Tony how very _young_ that Peter was, and it was absolutely taking him apart.

Which was, coincidentally, what he wanted to do to Peter right now.

“Peter, I’m going to leave, I think you can handle yourself-”

“Stay, Mr. Stark, _please,_ ” Peter whined, and he moved his hand over the bulge in his boxers, just barely tracing it with his fingers.

“Peter, I really don’t need to be here for this-”

“ _Tony_ ,” Peter dropped his first name, and Tony froze, “I wanna show you how, how _wet_ you get me,” Peter thumbed at the head of his cock over his underwear.

Tony could see a little wet spot forming in his boxers from where he was leaking precum.

_Fuck._

“Shh, Peter, if you need to- to get yourself off, baby, you can, but I need to leave the room-”

“ _Daddy,_ ” Peter whimpered.

Tony was more hard than he’d been in a very long time, maybe even years.

He was shocked into silence. He didn’t know what else there was to say, but he felt like his entire body was weighted to Peter’s bed. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the scene unfolding before him.

Peter slipped his hand underneath the waistband of his boxers and started rubbing at his cock. His underwear did nothing to hide his frantic movements, jerking at himself like he was going to die if he didn’t cum soon.

“ _Mr. Stark,_ ” he choked out, raising his hips into his hand. He was falling apart, and Tony was witnessing the entire thing. He looked up at Tony with half lidded eyes, brows drawn together as his mouth fell open to release the sweetest of high-pitched mewls.

He sounded like a _fucking pornstar_ , for Christ’s sake.

“I’m gonna cum, Mr. Stark,” Peter whined, hand movements getting faster as his hips bucked frantically.

“Good boy, Peter. You can cum, wanna see you cum for me,” Tony let the words slip out before he even knew what he was saying.

“ _Mr. Stark!_ ”

Peter came, hot white stripes painting his stomach, just above his waistband. Tony felt like he was going to pass out.

“G’night, Tony.” Peter murmured, turning on his side.

Tony pulled his covers over his body before turning the lights out and shutting the door, “goodnight, Peter.”

And if he locked himself in the bathroom for a half hour after that, well, that was nobody’s business.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im going to hell lol  
> sorry for making Erik a dick he's just a hot guy I could see being pushy at a party  
> the slow burn tag still stands I think?


	5. aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to be uploaded last night but my friends decided to impulsively pick me up and then we were out all night, so here it is today instead!  
> I've never been black out drunk before, I'm more into getting high than drunk, to be quite frank, so the depiction of it is based on how my friends and such have made it out to be. Hopefully it's somewhat accurate :)
> 
> chapters will probably be a little shorter or a bit more infrequently uploaded since school starts in two days, but in the down time, feel free to drop some Drabble prompts or just hit me up to talk on Tumblr @downeyfordick !!
> 
> playlist im making for this:  
> https://open.spotify.com/user/warmincoldlove/playlist/5gAi9AqpL6j98jlcnu9TMR?si=wl16Q8wRQD2nPE5g_j-_0Q

When Peter woke up, the first thing he noticed was that he had a headache. He winced in pain, rubbing at his temple, and noted to himself that he needed a glass of water and some ibuprofen as soon as possible. He heard his phone buzzing on the pillow next to him and he reached for it, seeing that there was only 15% battery life. He must've forgotten to plug it in before he went to bed.

His notifications were blowing up, and as it turned out, almost every single one of them was from Michelle:

11:46

**where’d you go?**

11:47

**peter?**

11:50

**turned around and you were gone??**

11:58

**getting worried**

12:10

**checked the basement and you weren’t there**

12:15

**loki wants your number lmao care if i give it to him?**

12:30

**erik just told me you weren’t feeling good and went home :(**

12:31

**hope you feel better, drink some coconut water if you have any, helps with hangovers ;)**

12:35

**oh btw i gave loki your number, hope you don’t mind**

 

Peter sighed, trying to comprehend all the messages while still not being fully awake.

After a moment, he responded:

**sorry about ditching you last night, i drank more than I could handle**

**and it’s fine you gave him my number, thanks for letting me know :)**

 

Peter plugged his phone into the charger before pulling off his covers. He felt gross. All he wanted was a shower.

The next thing Peter noticed was that his stomach was covered in dried cum. Peter’s face screwed up, “ew, what did I-?”

_Oh my fucking god._

Moments from the night before were rushing back to Peter in unorganized fragments. He could remember the smell of weed, the two boys kissing each other, the smoke burning his lungs, the taste of vodka, Loki’s laugh, MJ’s hips, Erik’s hand on his lower back, gagging in the grass next to his bike, Tony’s furrowed brow, _god Mr. Stark was probably so disappointed,_ pulling his jeans down his legs, rubbing himself over his boxers-

Holy _fucking_ shit.

Peter couldn’t recall what exactly had happened, but he was about ninety-eight percent sure it involved him being needy, whiny, and extremely inappropriate with Tony in the room.

Peter felt like he was going to vomit, and not just from the hangover. He needed to apologize to Tony _immediately_ , but what was he even supposed to say?

He could worry about that later, right now he needed some water and some aspirin.

He forced his body up out of the bed and pulled a pair of pajama pants on after cleaning himself off, changing out of his t-shirt that reeked of weed and sweat, and threw on one of his big sweatshirts. His hair was a mess but he didn’t care, he probably looked like he’d been to hell and back.

When he turned into the kitchen, Mary and Tony were sitting at the table eating waffles.

_Shit._

He forgot Mary would be home today.

Tony noticed his presence first, and Peter cringed in preparation for what Tony was going to say.

“Good morning, Peter! Do you want some waffles?”

Peter’s heart dropped. Had Tony forgotten? Or was he playing dumb? Maybe Peter’s memories lacking context convinced him it was worse than it actually was. That was wishful thinking.

“Uh, sure, Mr. Stark.”

Peter sat down at the table as Tony made him a plate of waffles and brought them to him. Tony was only wearing a pair of basketball shorts, and Peter had to constantly remind himself to avoid looking anywhere but his face.

“Thank you,” Peter squeaked. He decided that his plan was going to be being as quiet and unnoticeable as possible today, and not bring anything up unless Tony brought it up first.

“Rough night?” Mary asked, gesturing to his overall appearance. Peter forced a laugh.

“Not, um, not that bad, actually…”

He didn’t look at Tony to see his reaction.

“Did you at least have fun?”

Peter paused before answering. _Had_ he had fun? He could only partially remember the night, but from what he could recall, he had been laughing and enjoying himself for a good portion of the time he was there.

“Yeah, I actually did. Thanks for letting me go, Mom.”

“Thanks for being responsible,” she shot back.

Peter didn’t look at Tony to see his reaction.

Tony knew he had not been responsible last night, but Tony stayed silent, so Peter assumed they weren’t going to let Mary know about that.

“So, Peter,” Tony got the boy’s attention, “since today is Mary’s first day off, we thought we could go shopping?” He looked at the boy expectantly.

“You mean, with me?”

Tony laughed, “of course, kid. There’s an outdoor mall not too far from here,” his gaze shifted to Mary, “and I think Mary needs a new dress for our date tonight, don’t you, Mary?” Tony winked at her.

Peter really didn’t like how _normal_ things were at the moment. He felt as though any second the illusion would be broken and Tony would laugh: “Oh, Peter, just kidding! You really _did_ make a huge fool of yourself last night!”

“Shopping sounds fun,” Peter tried, before going quiet for the remaining minutes of breakfast.

  
  


Tony was good at a variety of things, but one of the things he was best at had to be spending money. The “mall” he’d taken them to was not somewhere you went if you were trying to bargain. There were shops lined up with outdoor entrances, each with its own intricate patterns and designs to draw people in. There were gardens with statues and fountains in the middle of cobblestone streets, and stylized street lamps lining each one. Many of the shops sold handmade objects and clothing, meaning they were one-of-a-kind, and it gave the entire place a very unique aura.

Part of Tony had expected Peter to be bored, considering this trip had been more for him to spoil Mary than anything else, but everytime he looked over at the boy, he seemed to be indulged in his surroundings, curious eyes wide and full of wonder at every trinket and thread he may have come by. Peter had an appreciation for the little things, and it was a trait Tony wished he had a bit more of.  To be sixteen and thrown into this kind of extravagant lifestyle, but to remain interested in the beauty of simplicity, was admirable.

Peter had been acting seemingly normal all afternoon, sheepish and red-faced, but not notably more than usual, and so Tony assumed that, perhaps, he’d blacked out and forgotten all events from the night before. Tony really hoped he had, because he’d said some _very_ inappropriate things the night before, and whilst Peter had done the same, he was a drunk teenager. Tony was supposed to be responsible and helpful, and he’d been too caught up in his own convoluted lust to leave the situation alone.

The guilt was driving him insane.

Every time he looked at Peter’s face, still rounded with a touch of youth, skin decorated with teenage imperfections, all he could think about was “ _daddy_ ”.

It’s a different kind of fucked up that Peter, whose life had been void of a father figure for several years, felt drawn to call his mother’s boyfriend such a thing while under the influence. It was fucked up, and it had Tony completely mentally preoccupied.

He hoped that taking Mary out on a date tonight would help to remind him that there was a beautiful, intelligent, _adult_ woman after which he was supposed to be lusting. It was becoming increasingly harder to keep that in mind.

Mary was in the dressing room of a boutique that specialized in feminine clothing and products, trying on a flowy red dress Peter had said would look nice on her. Peter didn’t strike him as someone who knew much about women’s fashion, but Tony couldn’t disagree, the dress did look like it would be flattering on Mary.

Tony caught sight of Peter, who was standing over a shelf of vegan makeup and perfumes, and he approached him from behind.

“What’re you looking at, Peter?” Tony spoke lowly, not wanting to draw attention to them.

Peter jumped at the sound of his voice and immediately turned pink.

Tony eyed the object in Peter’s hand and recognized that it was a lip gloss. Tony quirked his brow up.

“Were you picking that out for Mary?”

Peter flushed even darker, “um,” he looked down at the gloss, then back up at Tony, “yes…”

Tony caught on.

“Do you want to try it on?”

Peter’s eyes widened, “Wh-what? Why would I-”

Tony touched Peter’s shoulder, “it’s okay if you do. That’s what the ‘tester’ is for,” he grabbed one of the disposable applicators and handed it to Peter, “go ahead.”

Peter looked down at it for a moment, unsure of whether or not this was appropriate, before unscrewing the lid and coating the brush. He looked into the small mirror set up with the display as he applied the lipgloss in a thick layer. He turned to Tony, deliciously flustered, and waited on him to comment.

As if Peter’s mouth wasn’t already feminine enough, it was now glistening and baby pink, drawing attention to the sinful shape of his arched lips.

Tony took far too long to respond.

“You look _very_ pretty, Peter.”

His eyes lit up, “really?”

Tony nodded, “I’m buying that for you.”

“But what about Mom?”

Tony looked back at the dressing rooms, expecting her to come out any minute, “Well, I suppose we just won’t tell her.”

Peter looked surprised.

Tony handed him a tissue, “now wipe that off before she comes out,” and went back to standing by the dressing rooms.

  
  


Peter had skipped dinner that night, despite promising Mary he’d fix himself something once she and Tony had left. He couldn’t really bring himself to eat, his stomach too full of nerves. He’d been avoiding talking about it to Tony all day long, since with Mary present it was difficult, and now, after the lipgloss incident, he’d only been pushed further into confusion.

Peter was sat on top of the covers of his bed, letting Louder Than Bombs play in the background on his record player. He’d stolen the album from Tony’s shelf of records in the living room after he’d mentioned that it was his favorite by The Smiths, and had since had an ever growing appreciation for it. He wrapped himself in the sweater Tony had bought for him today at one of the quaint little shops. It was lavender, and the softest sweater he’d ever owned. He’d humbly attempted to decline, arguing how silly it was to buy such a thing in summertime, but Tony had told him that was nonsense, and pointed out how he constantly wore sweaters around the house. Mary had agreed, adding that the color would look dashing on him. Tony didn’t comment on that.

The sweater fell halfway to his knees, and the sleeves were long enough to completely cover his hands. He kind of never wanted to take it off.

Peter had left the windows open and watched the world grow dark. Now, he sat in his room, only illuminated by the soft glow of moonlight, and took in the fresh air as he attempted to organize his thoughts.

When the song “Asleep” came on, Peter paid close attention, recalling what Tony had said about it. He wanted to take in every lyric, every note, every meaning, and attempt to learn something about Tony from it.

_...Sing me to sleep_

_Sing me to sleep_

_I don’t want to wake up on my own anymore…_

Peter held his breath.

Tony was a lonely man. He’d been rich enough to buy whatever attention and company he pleased, but had he ever really gotten what he wanted from it?

Peter began to cry, hot tears hitting the pillow as he realized how twisted the situation was.

Mary was ready to offer her love to Tony, to try to mend him to the best of her abilities, to fill the space in her own heart, and all Peter could feel was… _jealousy_.

He wanted nothing more than for Tony to sweep him off his feet, tell him how pretty he was one thousand times a day, and kiss him like he was going to lose him.

Peter wanted it _so bad_ , and he hated himself for it.

  
  


At two in the morning, Peter decided he should probably eat something. Really, he’d decided it earlier than that, but after hearing the front door close, followed by Mary’s half-drunken giggling, he figured it would be a good idea to wait until he was sure the coast was clear.

He didn’t want to run into the same situation he’d ended up in last time. The thought alone made him shiver with discomfort.

Peter pulled his record from the player, having gotten caught up in the white noise of its nearly silent spinning, and placed it back in the cover. He assumed no one would be awake at this time, so he exited his room in the state he was in- swimming in his new sweater and a pair of fuzzy socks, his legs bare, save for his gray boxers.

As it turned out, Tony was having some trouble sleeping tonight.

As Peter entered the kitchen, Tony looked up at him. Peter froze up.

“Mr. Stark? What are you doing up?”

Tony’s eyes trailed down Peter’s frame, making Peter’s skin break out in goosebumps.

“Just, uh,” he raised the scotch glass in his left hand, “having a drink, I suppose. Had trouble getting to bed.” He set his glass down on the counter before crossing his arms, “what are you doing up?”

Peter pulled at the sleeves of his sweater nervously, “I was just hungry…”

“Didn’t you eat dinner?”

Peter shook his head carefully, “couldn’t eat.”

“Why’s that?”

Peter looked down at the tiles of the kitchen floor, memorizing each line and pattern in order to distract himself from feeling Tony’s heavy gaze on him. There was a moment of silence as Tony waited on Peter’s response.

Finally, Peter took a deep breath and choked out, “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark.” It was barely audible, but he knew Tony had heard him.

Tony took a step closer to Peter, “what are you sorry for, Peter?”

Peter felt his skin itch all over and his heart rate picked up. He couldn’t make himself say it.

“You _know_ what.”

Tony raised an eyebrow.

“So you remember?”

Peter shrugged, “only some of it.”

“Tell me what you remember.”

Peter felt his face get hot.

“Well, I, um...” Peter seriously did not know if he could do this.

“It’s okay, Peter. We need to talk about this. Tell me what you remember.”

“I remember… _touching_ myself, in front of you, and, um, telling you that I,” Peter felt like he was going to have a heart attack, “that I think about you when I...do _that_.”

“Is that all?”

How was Tony remaining so calm?

Peter nodded, “I think that’s all.”

“Do you remember what I said to you?”

Peter covered his face with his sweater-covered palms and groaned, “god, I don’t _want_ to remember what you said to me. You were probably so alarmed and uncomfortable and, oh my _god,_ I’m so embarrassed, Mr. Stark, I don’t even know what-”

“Kid,” Peter took a moment to pause at the sound of Tony’s voice, “calm down. Listen to me.”

Peter waited expectantly for Tony to make him feel at least slightly less horrible.

“Peter, I-” Tony rubbed his hand over his face in frustration, “ _fuck._ ” He muttered under his breath.

Tony was looking at him carefully now, studying every detail of his appearance. He noticed the way his curls looked messy and disheveled from his bed, the way he held his bottom lip between his teeth with nerves, the red-ring around his eyes that signified crying, _the kid had been crying over this_ . He watched Peter’s fingers play with the sleeves of his sweater as he waited for Tony to say something coherent, the way his pale, bare thighs were covered in goosebumps, and the way his knees were knocking against each other.  He was watching the way Peter shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and _Christ,_ was the kid wearing fuzzy socks?

“Peter,” he breathed out, taking another step closer to the much smaller boy, “Do you- do you mind if I do something, I just,” he swallowed, “I need to get something out of my system.”

“Mr. Stark?”

Peter’s eyes were glossy and bright, full of curiosity and anticipation.

“Do you trust me, Peter?” Tony finally said, raising his hand to cup Peter’s jaw with a light hand, and as if he’d just touched the tip of a paintbrush to a droplet of water, the boy’s pretty face spread with a pink tint, barely visible in the dark lighting and secrecy of the night.

Peter barely had the ability to move, but he forced himself to nod his head, watching Tony’s eyes.

Tony leaned in an inch more, eyes lingering on the boy’s lips, a bit chapped, but still so _irresistible_.

He pressed their mouths together, feeling as Peter twitched with surprise, but quickly relaxed into it, and pressed himself against the older man.

It was _everything_.

The smell of an old book, a blanket fresh out of the drier, the sound of a song you haven’t heard in a while, the breeze of the ocean on a hot summer day, the stain of cherries on the lips you can’t ignore.

 _Peter was everything_.


	6. moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Tony continue their activities in the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was going to be longer, but I've decided to split it into two because this felt like it deserved its own spotlight. Next part should be uploaded tomorrow :)  
> warning for nsfw  
> hit me up on Tumblr @downeyfordick

Peter had not kissed many people in his short lifetime.

When he was in seventh grade, he’d been at a birthday party, and someone had dared him to kiss the prettiest girl in the room. At the time, Peter was still working through his sexuality, and so he agreed. He kissed a girl named Marie, who had red hair and freckles. It was more of a peck than anything, and he felt his entire face get hot with embarrassment as the thirteen year olds surrounding him giggled and gasped.

“Can’t believe you kissed a _girl_ , Peter! We all thought you were gay!” Flash had snarled. Flash was an asshole, even to this day, and he was one of the few reasons Peter didn’t completely mind leaving Midtown High. Little Peter had frowned at that, muttering an “am not” before he sat back down and waited for the next person to be dared.

The second time he was kissed, he was a freshman in high school, at the awkward age of fourteen, mouthful of braces, and waiting on his height to catch up, (since it seemed like all the other boys had gone from five feet to six in mere months). He had become friends with a pretty junior girl named Liz, who was one of the first people he’d told he was gay. She’d been very supportive of him, and promised she wouldn’t tell anyone until he was ready to be public about it. One night, Liz had thrown a small party, and he’d been hesitant to go in the first place, but she insisted it would be a good time, nothing too crazy or overwhelming. That much was true, but _of course_ Flash was there, and when Liz wasn’t in the room, he’d started teasing Peter.

“What’re you fucking looking at? I mean, I get that I’m a good looking guy, but, sorry to break it to you, I’m not a _queer_ like _you_.”

Peter had flushed with frustration, “I’m _not_ gay!”

“Really? Because, uh,” he leaned in and sniffed dramatically, “you smell a little _fruity_ to me,” he spat.

Liz had re-entered the room, then, immediately figuring out was going on, before forcing herself in front of Flash to get to Peter. She’d shocked Peter by pulling him into a kiss, more than the peck he’d experienced with Marie in seventh grade, and of course Peter had kissed back, having to prove himself to Flash, even if the version of himself he was proving wasn’t the real one.

Liz pulled away, wiping her mouth and raising her eyebrow, “was that ‘fruity’ enough for you, Flash?” Then she grabbed Peter by the wrist and pulled him behind her as they headed upstairs to her bedroom. Everyone whistled and hooted as they passed, obviously assuming they were going to fuck, which was exactly what Liz wanted them to think. When they got to her room, though, she locked the door, and Peter began crying while she held him in a tight hug. They stayed up there until Peter calmed down, which was enough time to convince people he’d at least gotten a blowjob.

Peter had not kissed many people in his short lifetime.

Peter had not even kissed a boy.

Now, though, he had kissed a _man._

Tony smelled like a strong cologne mixed with scotch, and a touch of shampoo. His beard was scruffy and rough against Peter’s baby soft skin, and he could taste the alcohol on his tongue. He’d never kissed someone with tongue before, but his kiss with Tony had accelerated shockingly quickly, from a soft and daring touch of the lips, to Peter being lifted onto the kitchen counter, where Tony now stood between his legs, a hand tangled in Peter’s hair. The hand wrapped around Peter’s back began pulling him closer to the edge of the counter, and thus closer to Tony’s body. Eventually, Peter was barely hanging off the counter, relying on his arms and legs that were wrapped around Tony. Without thinking, Peter pushed his hips forward, and found himself whining into Tony’s mouth as he felt the contact of Tony’s crotch against his own barely clothed one.

Tony pulled away from the kiss, breathing against Peter’s neck, “you hard, Pete?”

Peter nodded, raising his hips into Tony, which didn’t give him much friction, but at the moment, Peter’s cock was possibly more sensitive than it had ever been. Every single physical sensation was like a hairpin trigger.

“Come here,” Tony coaxed, pulling Peter in until he was completely holding Peter, his hands holding Peter up from the underside of his thighs. With Peter in his arms, he walked them a short distance to the closest chair in the living room. The chair was a large green sitting chair, quaint and fitting with the aesthetic of the house, but surely not meant to hold two people.

Tony sat down in the chair, pulling Peter into his lap with him. When they’d situated themselves, Tony began kissing him again, this time moving one of his hands down to Peter’s ass. Peter made a sound at that, rutting his hips forward, which then only intensified everything, because now, when he was straddling Tony’s lap, he could _really_ feel Tony’s cock against his own. He pulled away from Tony’s mouth to breathe, because he was feeling a bit overwhelmed by all the physical contact on all the different areas of his sensitive, untouched body.

Tony began peppering kisses along Peter’s neck, down to his slightly exposed collarbone, and sucking a hickey just above it, marking his previously flawless skin.

Peter would have to worry about that later, but right now, it felt too good to make him stop. He got into a rhythm of rocking his hips into Tony, quickly becoming addicted to the friction.

“You feel that, Pete? How hard I am for you right now?” Tony murmured against Peter’s neck.

Peter moaned, burying his face into Tony’s shoulder. His face felt like it was on fire.

Tony grabbed Peter’s hips, guiding them forward into his own, regulating the sporadic pattern Peter had been following. Peter was mewling like a kitten, desperate breathy moans pouring from his mouth like a prayer.

“So _pretty_ , baby. _Daddy loves the sounds you’re making_ . You’re doing so _good_.”

And then Peter inhaled sharply, hips losing any rhythm they had created before freezing completely. Peter felt himself get red all over as a wet spot began forming in his boxers.

“Did you just-”

Peter pulled away from Tony, hiding his face with his sweater-covered hands, “I’m _so_ embarrassed. Ugh, Mr. Stark, I didn’t mean to, it just felt so _good_ , and-”

“Fucking _Christ_ , kid,” Tony breathed, and Peter pulled his hands from his face to look at him, eyes dark and full of lust, “you just… just _came_ all over yourself and made a mess of your boxers, all because I just,” he rocked his hips upwards, reminding Peter of his own arousal, “gave you a little contact.”

Peter forgot how to breathe.

Tony leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Peter’s lips, “you’re so good, Peter. So good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @downeyfordick on Tumblr


	7. branching out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter decides to get out of the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really ship Peter x Loki but for the sake of jealousy and stuff, theres a touch of that in here. It's not about to be a major plot point, so I probably won't tag it.  
> I'm so excited for the next few chapters, I've got some ideaaaaas  
> check me out on Tumblr @downeyfordick

A few days following  _ the incident _ , Peter decided he needed to get out of the house.

For the past three days, he’d been tiptoeing around the place, avoiding Tony at all costs, unsure of where their relationship now stood. When he saw him at dinner, he would treat him as though nothing had happened, and Peter had to will himself to stop blushing in front of Mary for no reason. He couldn’t help that everytime he looked at Tony, he remembered the taste of scotch and the smell of cologne and the outline of his cock against his own, the breathy whispers of  _ “so good, Peter” _ , and then before he knew it he’d have an awkward erection at the dinner table. 

He couldn’t stop admiring the hickey he’d given him either. It was still there, dark purple and red, shouting at Peter that he was a fucked up person, but a fucked up person who had gotten lucky enough to be given a hickey by Tony Stark.

When Tony had walked him to his bedroom that night, insisting that it was getting late and he needed to get to bed before Mary noticed his absence, he had stopped outside of Peter’s door and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, before whispering, “you can’t tell  _ anyone  _ about what happened tonight”. 

That was the part that had stuck around in Peter’s mind like a tattoo he hadn’t really agreed to get. The rest of the night had been clouded by the ambiguity of the moonlight, but those words floated around his head at every second of the day, the clarity of their meaning bothersome. 

Peter needed to get out of the house. He needed to get away from Tony. 

Loki had been texting Peter following Michelle giving him his number, and Peter had decided that besides the fact he probably had a god complex and was pretty pretentious, he was arguably ‘cool’. He listened to good music and knew lots of interesting spots around town, and it helped that he had pretty black hair and sharp cheekbones. 

Today, Peter was going to go over to his house. Loki had said they could meet there, since he didn’t live far, and then from there they could decide where they wanted to go to hang out for the day. Peter didn’t think Loki was dangerous, so he agreed to it.

He didn’t bid Tony goodbye as he left the house, but he let Mary know he’d be home by dinnertime.

It turned out that Loki only lived a few streets over from Tony, and his house was equally as nice as the one the party had been thrown at. Beautiful, extravagant, and nicer than anything Peter had seen back in Queens, but nothing close to the dream that was Tony’s mansion. 

When Peter rang the doorbell, he was greeted by an unfamiliar face, belonging to a very tall, very broad man with wavy blonde hair and blue eyes. 

“You must be Peter!” He exclaimed.

Peter searched his mind for the name Loki had given him at the party, assuming this man was his brother, (which was hard to believe, considering the drastically different appearance and overall aura).

“And you are… Thor?” Peter guessed.

“That would be me!” The man boomed excitedly.

“Nice to meet you,” Peter said softly. Thor radiated confidence, alongside being physically three times Peter’s size, and Peter found himself struggling to make words come out in the presence of the older person. 

It was a bit like when he’d met Tony for the first time.

Peter swallowed. He didn’t want to think about that right now.

“And you as well, Peter! You must be here for Loki.”

Peter nodded.

Thor turned his head to a nearby hallway before shouting, “Loki! Your little  _ friend  _ is here,” he shot a wink at Peter.

Peter felt his cheeks redden at the assumptions Thor was making. He wasn’t sure why Thor would assume that was the case, but he thought it probably had to do with the fact that he was wearing baby pink lipgloss. 

He’d almost forgotten he’d applied it that morning. A part of him might’ve just hoped he’d run into Tony on the way out, and leave him wondering where Peter was off to wearing  _ lipgloss _ . 

He didn’t end up running into Tony after all.

A few seconds following Thor’s calling out, Loki arrived in the doorway, pushing Thor out of the way with a flushed face, “you’re two hundred pounds of pure stupidity aren’t you, brother?” 

Thor only laughed before grabbing a duffle bag off the floor and throwing it over his shoulder, “Pure stupidity and muscle, that is! I’m off to the gym. Have fun, but not too much fun,” he winked at Loki, and headed out the door past Peter.

Peter’s face was now very hot, and he was feeling far more confused about what he was doing here. 

“I’m very sorry, Peter. He likes to do whatever he can to bother me.”

Peter shrugged, “it’s, uh, it’s okay. Did you tell him I was…?”

Loki sighed, “of course not, Peter. He just likes to make assumptions,” Loki turned his body to allow room in the doorway for Peter to enter, “you’re welcome to come in, if you’d like.”

Peter stepped forward into the very large house, and immediately noticed the floral scent. It was pleasant, but very apparent.

“Our mother is very into gardening. There’s plants quite literally everywhere.” Loki explained.

“Is your mom home?” Peter asked.

Loki shook his head, “it’s just me and Thor here all week, which you can imagine hasn’t been easy,” he joked.

Peter felt his stomach begin to swirl. He and Loki were in this house alone. The only other times he’d been alone in a house with someone he was attracted to was when Mary was at work. 

Peter mentally snapped at himself,  _ stop thinking about Tony. _

“Would you like to see my room?”

Peter hesitated. 

“Uh, sure. Yeah. Why not?”

  
  
  


Loki’s room was bigger than Peter’s own back in Queens, and significantly so, but still smaller than the room Peter now slept in. Loki had a very large bed, likely a King, with a silky emerald green duvet. The floors were covered in white carpet, which was surprisingly spotless considering that (Peter assumed) the house was not  _ that  _ new. Loki must’ve been very good about keeping clean. 

His room smelled like a forest-themed candle, and it overall was very comforting, but poised. 

For the last twenty minutes, Loki had been explaining his family situation and how he had been adopted when he was a baby, prompted by Peter asking about a family photo framed in the hallway, where it was clear that Loki did not look much like the rest of the household. Now, Loki had laid down on the bed, playing with a green ribbon, tying and untying it as he rambled.

“And so now Thor likes to think he’s better than me because he’s related to our father by blood, but I think he’s actually quite aware that I’m the smarter sibling, and he simply refuses to admit it,” Loki looked away from the ribbon he’d been toying with to notice Peter standing awkwardly in the middle of his room. He laughed, “well, Peter, don’t be such a stranger,” he sat up, patting the bed next to him. 

Peter felt quite unsure about taking a seat on the bed next to Loki, but there was nowhere else to sit, and he knew he couldn’t stand in the middle of the room forever. He walked over and sat down on the bed, crossing his legs and putting his hands in his lap.

“So tell me about, where was it? Oh, Queens! Tell me about Queens,” Loki prompted, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, uh, my mom and my dad moved there when they were in their twenties for my dad’s job, and then they had me, and I lived in that same apartment I grew up in for sixteen years, and then I, uh, we moved here.”

“Why did you move?”

“My mom got a new boyfriend, and so we moved in with him.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, “what do you think of him? Do you like him?”

Peter felt a bit sick to his stomach.

“I guess you could say that, yeah.”

Loki looked a bit confused, but he didn’t pry further.

“So tell me about the boys in Queens. Were you making your rounds?” He joked.

Peter played with his curls nervously, “uh, not really, hardly anyone in Queens even knew I was gay, and all the guys there were kind of gross.”

“Well, luckily for you, the boys here are absolutely gorgeous. We’ve got quite a few good ones that I’m sure would be more than interested in you.”

Peter blushed, “really?”

Loki nodded, “really.”

“Well, just make a list for me whenever you get the chance, then,” Peter laughed.

Loki turned his body to face Peter, “I can think of at least one person right now,” he lowered his voice.

Peter’s face was very hot now.

“You can?”

“I can.”

Peter was playing dumb, “w-who?”

Loki chuckled and rolled his eyes, “do I have to spell it out for you, Parker?”

Before Peter could respond, Loki was leaning in and pressing a kiss to his mouth. 

One million thoughts had been racing through Peter’s mind the second before the contact, but now, they had all disappeared at once.

Peter let it happen.

Loki held his face in one hand and guided Peter through the kiss. Peter had not kissed many people, but now he’d kissed two within a week of each other. There was something about this neighborhood that made people fooled into thinking Peter was worth pursuing, apparently. 

Before Peter could process it was happening, Loki had pushed him back onto his back on the bed, and had moved himself to straddle Peter’s waist. Peter was in shock, but he also didn’t completely mind. 

Loki moved from his lips down his jaw, “saw you at that party just  _ dripping _ with innocence, couldn’t help myself…” he murmured into Peter’s neck. Peter felt his heart race speeding up. This was all too similar to experiences he’d had with Tony.

_ Was his innocence his only asset?  _

Loki pulled at the collar of Peter’s shirt, moving to kiss his collarbone, when he spotted the hickey.

_ Shit. The hickey. _

Loki pulled back in surprise.

“You’ve got a—”

“Oh, um, yeah, I forgot to—”

“Are you…  _ with  _ someone, Peter?”

Peter panicked. The answer to that question was far more complex than it should’ve been.

“Yes,” he said impulsively.

Loki pulled himself from Peter’s lap.

“I apologize, I didn’t mean to invade on—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Peter looked anywhere but at Loki.

“I mean, we could still—”

“Maybe I should go…” Peter finally said, wanting the awkward interaction to end already.

Loki exhaled, “if that’s what you think you should do, Peter, then be my guest,” he gestured to the door.

Peter stood up, blushing, and pulled his shoes back on.

He rushed out an apology as he headed for the door, attempting to gather his thoughts as he recounted the last few minutes.

  
  
  


When Peter got home and stepped through the front door of the mansion, he did not expect to be immediately greeted with the face of Tony Stark. 

After everything he’d just experienced at Loki’s house, he wasn’t sure he could put up with something like that right now.

Tony looked up at him from his chair, cocking an eyebrow up, “and where did you just come from?”

“A friend’s house.”

“What friend?”

“His name is Loki.”

Tony furrowed his brow, “like the Norse god?”

“I guess so.”

Tony traveled his eyes carefully over Peter’s red face. He knew he looked a bit fucked out, but he’d hoped Tony would just assume it was because of the bike ride home.

Another portion of him, though, hoped Tony would know  _ exactly  _ what had just happened.

“You’ve got lipgloss on your face.”

Peter didn’t respond to that one.

“You look flustered, Peter.”

Before Peter could respond, Mary entered the room, stopping in her tracks when she noticed Peter.

“Peter! You’re home!”

“And so are you!” Peter put on a smile, forcing his blush to go away.

“I got off work early today. Are you hungry at all? I can make dinner anytime.”

“Uh, sure. I think I’m going to go up to my room for a little bit,” he shot a look from the side of his eye at Tony, who was continuing to observe Peter’s appearance in seemingly great detail, “but just let me know when it’s done.”

  
  
  


Mary had fallen asleep around midnight that night, and Tony had come to realize he was counting her breaths each night to be able to tell when she was completely out. By now, he considered himself a damn near expert, but he hated to think about why he would need to be.

What kind of relationship was he leading where he needed to be able to tell when the other was fast asleep?

A sneaky one, surely.

One of infidelity, perhaps.

But he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind.

Really, he pushed  _ all _ thoughts to the back of his mind.

Tony stood up from his bed, wearing only his boxers, hair a mess from the time he’d spent lying down and pretending he’d be able to sleep tonight, despite being unable to the past three nights, and exited his bedroom as quietly as possible.

Tony did not plan his actions that night, but rather, he rode the wave of impulse that had decided to wash over him as he laid in bed, occupied by his intrusive thoughts. 

All of which seemed to have the common theme of Peter Parker.

Tony was walking up the stairs to Peter’s bedroom before he even knew where his legs were carrying him, and he found himself pressing his ear to the bedroom door to listen for any kind of movement, or sign of Peter being awake. He could hear the muffled sound of music playing from the record player, but he didn’t recognize the song.

Tony took a deep breath before opening the door and stepping inside without knocking. 

He was immediately faced with a very sleepy looking Peter, sitting on top of the covers of his bed in only his boxers, milky white skin glowing in the dim lighting seeping through the open window.

He sat up, covering himself with a sheet before running his hand through his curls. 

“Mr. Stark?” The boy’s voice sounded gravelly and tired, and Tony wanted to listen to him speak like that all day long. “What are you doing in here? It’s,” he glanced at the clock on the wall, “it’s one in the morning.”

Tony walked over to the record player, lifting the needle to halt the flow of the music, leaving the room in near complete silence, save for the sound of the crickets chirping and the occasional breeze outside. He sat down on Peter’s bed, turning to the very confused boy. 

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Peter’s face got pink. He rubbed at his shoulder awkwardly, drawing Tony’s eyes to the hickey he’d left there.  _ God,  _ he was so  _ stupid.  _ He couldn’t be going around giving underage boys hickeys, let alone underage boys that were the _ son of his girlfriend _ . 

“Peter, talk to me.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Stark, I’ve just been feeling really embarrassed about it.” Peter was avoiding eye contact. Tony didn’t necessarily mind, considering he was able to travel his eyes along the boy’s pretty face and lean form, and he wouldn’t be able to tell. 

“So you decided the best course of action was avoiding me completely?”

“I thought you didn’t want to see me.”

Tony’s stomach dropped.

“Why wouldn’t I want to see you? You’re so nice to look at, Peter. I always want to see you.”

Peter held back a smile.

“I’ve missed your smile. It’s so pretty.” Tony continued.

Peter took a deep breath and forced himself to be serious as he explained himself.

“You said you needed to get it ‘out of your system’. I guess I just assumed that you… did.” He shrugged.

Tony felt guilt coming in from all directions.

He felt guilty for lying to Mary. He felt guilty for confusing Peter. He felt guilty for allowing Peter to avoid him for three days, rather than saying something earlier. He felt guilty for wording it that way, as if once he’d done it, he wouldn’t want to do it anymore.

That logic was unbelievable.  _ Of course  _ he still wanted to do it. He’d never wanted to do it  _ more _ .

“Peter, you know that’s not how it works.”

“What do you mean?”

Tony sighed, “You think that because now that I know what your lips feel like- what your tongue  _ tastes _ like, that I just, magically don’t want to do it anymore?” Peter looked at him now, eyes wide. “Peter, since that night, all I can think about is the smell of you when my face is buried in your neck, or the feeling of your narrow hips in my hands, or the sounds,  _ fuck,  _ the  _ sounds  _ that slip past those pretty lips when you’re getting yourself off. It’s not ‘out of my system’, Pete. If anything, its sending my system into overdrive.”

Peter’s face was red, spreading all the way down his neck and chest. 

“Mr. Stark?” He whispered, barely audible.

“Yes, Peter?”

“Will you kiss me?”

“ _ God,  _ I thought you’d never ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @downeyfordick on Tumblr

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to try to write longer chapters than I would usually write and make this fic kind of angsty but also hot don't worry, it's coming very soon. Tell me what you thought! And follow me on Tumblr @downeyfordick


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